


Shifting Sands

by Mercurytail



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Elementalist AU, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Mention of abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, small amount of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-06-07 17:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurytail/pseuds/Mercurytail
Summary: McCree and Hanzo have a chance encounter as they both make their ways to Gibraltar. They team up and decide to journey together, little do they know of the shadows in their path. And the connection and liberation they find within one another.An arrow flies toward him; McCree shifts a hole in himself to avoid it. It lands dead center.“I know you’re there, I can sense you. Seeing as you have not attacked, I presume you are no threat….”The silence stretches for just long enough to make it eerie.“Show yourself.”McCree deliberates for a short second. “You could say ‘Hello’. Ain’t fond of getting’ shot at.” McCree pulls himself up, reforming. His shirt is torn; the lightning inflicted a raw burn from collarbone to sternum. With arrow in hand he slowly approaches the man. He holds out the arrow. “I believe this is yours?”The man takes it cautiously and stands. McCree cocks his hip and places his thumbs in his belt loops. “Mind tellin’ me why you’re droppin’ corpses in my yard?”The storm dissipates, leaving the two men standing in the chilly, clear night. The wind ripples their clothes.  The moon just over the horizon shines down on them. Both men regard each other quietly.





	1. Chapter One

Shifting Sands Chapter 1  
(Important: Elemental Magic. McCree can turn himself and items touching him into sand/earth and back again but only items of the same mass or less.)  
(Deadeye: he uses peacekeeper to aim, but he uses molten bullet sized rocks to kill.)

A small arid town rests on the edge of a shallow canyon. Only a few town buildings and some lodging are all that remains of a once popular gas stop. The paint is cracked and peeling, a few roofs looking worse for wear tended to just enough to keep them livable for the people who choose to stay. The streets are clean but dusty; a single old car having sat for so long it’s as if it has become one with the ground beneath it. Big Earl's service station sits eerily on the main road. A man stands out amongst the dust sweeping his porch.

It’s hot; the heat distorts the air around the town so much it seems as if it’s adrift in water. The earth cracks underfoot as McCree solidifies in an alleyway just inside of town. He scans the area. As a tumbleweed drifts by, his lips upturn slightly. He walks along the quiet main road toward the general store.

The deserts have been ghost towns since the crisis. They’re somewhat of a refuge for outlaws like himself.

  
McCree strolls to the front entrance of the store, holding it for an elderly woman both her hands full with heavy sacks of greens. She nods at him with a wise grin and a twinkle in her eye. He tips his hat with a knowing smile.

He enters. Ambient radio plays inside. He eyes the front counter, a beat-up blade fan whirls loudly behind it. The cashier barely gives him a moment’s glance as she continues tending to her nails.

McCree makes his way to the glass door coolers lining the back wall and peruses the alcohol. _Beggars’ can't be choosers_ ; he shrugs, and pulls out a cheap bourbon.

He walks up to the counter and places the bourbon down.

"Second cigarillo pack to the right, if ya' don' mind." he says to the attendant.  
She eyes him, and sighs as she turns to grab the pack of Mardolo golds.

"Is that all sir?" she says disinterestedly.

McCree laughs to himself. "Yes, ma'am'".

She rings him up as he pulls out cash to pay. The front bell rings as the glint of light catches McCree’s eye. A thin women walks in dressed in all black. Her turtleneck sweater and jeans hug her form, while her silver bolo tie with a hawk insignia and scaled boots shine. There are heavy bags under her eyes. She has short golden brown curly hair framing her round face.

McCree averts his eyes and sighs. He pays for his things and walks out, making a sharp left dipping into a nearby alley, empty except for a single trash bin near the other end. He lights a fresh Cigarillo and takes a slow drag. Footsteps sound behind him.

*click*

The tell-tale cold of a barrel graces the back of his head.

"McCree, How kind of you to show. I was beginning to think I'd lost you. That 60 mil’s gonna' look good in my bank account". The woman’s short curls bounce around her cheeks as she tilts her head in a nervous grin.

McCree relaxes back on his heels and tilts his head just so to eye his pursuer, a sharp glint visible in his eye. “I’m sure it will darlin’. Here, I’ll even make it easy and stand still for ya’.” He gives a small lopsided smile.

“Don’t you get smug on me! I’ve followed you this far, I’ve finally caught ya you mother fucker.” She shakes minutely; swallowing around the lump in her throat a visible sheen of sweat on her skin. “Plan to finish it here too, you ain’t getting by me again’”.

McCree chortles and returns his head forward, “a’right shug’ ready when you are.”

She grips her gun tightly and positions her body ready for anything this inane man could draw up.

A shot rings out. She stares blankly in shock.

A figure of sand with a single hole through its head stands in front of the bounty hunter.

"Wha...." She staggers back as the figure slumps to a mass on the ground. "Where are you!" she yells angrily. The sound of a cocked hammer echoes around the alley, and cold metal meets her head.

"Looks like the tables turned". Her eyes go wide with a mix of fear and anger fist raised to strike. He pulls the trigger and the woman falls dead on the ground.

McCree chews at the butt of his cigarillo angrily. He walks over and looms over her, a cold stare on his face.

Sammy Lockhart, world famous hunter. To think he'd gotten her attention... He wasn't surprised, really, with the rise of paid hunters after the fall of Overwatch. She was the reason for his exploit into town. To finish business before it got too far. She had followed him across three countries in the last 5 months, hounding him, exhausting him, all the way to his place of haven, his home, this hot desert plain.

He'd rather avoid killin' again, thought those days were done along with his days in Blackwatch, but noone's allowed to threaten his sanctum.  
He hates killin'…..nothin’ good comes of it but, he knows it’s not his last. Death has a way of finding people like him.

He closes his eyes and resigns himself. Tilting his head to the sky he takes another long drag and releases the smoke up. _What’s done is done_.

He grumbles, and then pulls at the earth beneath his feet. He creates a thin sheen of dust like a blanket the spilled blood staining its surface and wraps it around the cooling body. He drags it behind him as he makes his way out of the dusty town.

 ***

He shovels into the hard earth just deep enough to fit her under. He covers her and places a small rock atop the mound. He cuts it to make a head stone. It reads Sammy.

After burying the body he stands and places his hat on his chest, looking out over the horizon at the slowly setting sun he then, grain by grain of sand, is blown away, riding the wind.

A couple hours walk south, a rusty scrap shack rests hidden amidst a U shaped mesa, a flat well beside it. The night is cool though not yet freezing. McCree makes his way inside as the wind begins to pick up. The inside is sparse, only a small kitchenette, a toilet off to the side, an open shower, and one other room containing a full-sized bed. Every bit of interior old but, exudes a charm only lived-in atmosphere can give. It’s freshly cleaned from his earlier scouting.

McCree hangs his serape on the hook by the door; his steps are long but heavy. He then sets the bourbon down on the tiny three legged side table and falls into his worn brown leather recliner. Drained, he looks at the glass sitting in the kitchen across the way, then to the single black stone coaster and sighs heavily.

With a flick of his wrist, the coaster zips to the glass and slips under it. They both settle onto the side table seconds later. He sinks further into the chair; head tilting back, closing his eyes and finally relaxes into the plush material. There’s howling outside as the wind continues to pick up. McCree breathes softly, falling into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

Shifting Sands Chapter 2  
(Important: Elemental magic. Hanzo possesses two elements; wind and lightning. He can manipulate the space and air around him, but much like McCree he cannot control more than the mass of his own body. Unlike McCree he cannot turn into wind, though he can turn into lightning for short spurts of time, but it is dangerous and he cannot fully control its pathway.)

The stars above sing shyly as they fight against the bright light of the city. Towering glass giants hog the dark sky. Their glowing white sides shine over the world below. The streets are a plethora of tiny illuminations battling for space. The nightlife booms, as crowds of people scurry from neon to neon, club music adrift in the air.

Hanzo toys with his wireless earpiece, Beethoven symphony number 5 playing near silently as he quietly hums along. Crouching down on the third-floor fire escape, he eyes the alley below. A siren blares past out on the road. He waits; his pursuers should come any moment. He checks his bow. Notches an arrow.

  
He knew it had been a set-up; taking such a high-end job in a place like Stuttgart. The last ten years of constant movement having sharpened his senses. Axel Moldenhauer had been playing him from the beginning. The well-established businessmen, or rather illegal weapons trafficker, had contacted Hanzo a month ago with an offer of half a million to dispatch of a rival of his here in the city. Hanzo had come not for the money but for the distraction, needing to escape his mind due to recent events. ' _It was along the way to his ultimate destination anyway_ '. As the symphony crescendos, he leans on the wall behind him.

***

McCree sets up in his chair and rolls his neck. It makes a loud crack, ‘Gah! That’s what I get for sleepin’ in the chair’. He looks at his holoscreen, its late morning. The Sun shines brightly in the sky.

He stands and stretches his back reaching his hands up toward the ceiling. He picks up his hat from where it had fallen the night before and places it in the chair. He walks to his shower and strips. As the fabric slides off old scars come into view, littering his soft toned body. A thin layer of course hair present over his chest, arms, and thighs. McCree plays with his happy trail. He rather likes that part of himself. His eyes sweep over to his prosthetic. He sneers at it. He then removes it to places it on the side table.

He turns the nob and stands in the cold spray as it slowly heats up. He washes quickly and rushes to the other room for a change of clothes. He slides on a clean pair of boxer briefs and then pulls out his tan serape and blue plaid short-sleeved shirt. He slips those on along with his jeans from yesterday He turns to the door and his bare feet slap the floor as he saunters into the kitchen.

***

Hanzo sips from his flask, having bought a lovely bottle of Nigori Sake from a quaint shop he had found the night before.

Hanzo had met with Axel and taken the down payment. The day before the job was to be carried out; he had intended to enjoy himself. He’d spent that morning shopping in the mall district, trying on various articles of clothing when he’d been ambush between shops as he took a side street. He had quickly and cleanly dispatched of his assailants and made his escape, but not before one had slipped a tracker onto him. Said tracker lay near the dead end of the alleyway below. He had run back toward the busier part of the city for cover to stave off their assault till nightfall.

He had kept a sharp eye out that afternoon, while he enjoyed eating a pint of mint and green tea ice-cream at a corner cafe. He knew they’d be watching when he finally took a taxi to the night district and walked into a club with a bright yellow neon archway. With the music sickeningly loud he had found the back door and snuck out. He’d surveyed the landscape and chose his perch.

***

McCree opens his mini fridge; a cool breeze hit his face. He pulls out an avocado, a tomato, and some bacon. Laying them on the counter he reaches to his bread box and pulls out two slices of rye bread. They’re dry. ‘ _Tch’ I’ll have to toast um_ ’. He pushes the lever on his toaster down and listens to it tick. Pulling out an iron pan he lays three strips of bacon to start as he slices the tomato and avocado thinly.

The toaster dings and he places the slices on a ceramic plate. He returns to the fridge and grabs the mayo. He smears on a thick layer of mayo along with the bacon, two slices of tomato, and half of the avocado. He lifts it to his nose and smells the crispy bacon, then takes a bite. While eating he walks over to the hanging sandbag in the far corner behind his chair. He munches on the last morsel of his sandwich as he begins shifting lightly on his feet.

Fists at the ready he bats at the sack steadily breaking a sweat as he boxes it. Soaking into the experience, he imagines a thick figure looming over him, swinging back at him. He dodges and strikes back again and again. The air-conditioner suddenly kicks on and catches him off guard, He bursts into dust scattering about the room. The sand settles and a chuckle resonates around the room. McCree slowly reforms, a smile on his lips that reaches his eyes.

***

Six men dressed to the teeth in all black creep around the end of the alley. Pulse rifles aimed at the black abyss ahead. An arrow whistles in the air and lodges in the throat of the first grunt. The guns are raised and shots are fired at the fire escape as another arrow fells the second man.

Hanzo rolls back, barely dodging a bullet aimed for his leg. He leaps to the wall across the gap and scales it effortlessly, lifting himself up onto the roof above. Shots ring out chasing him over the edge. Hanzo slides over to a wall for cover and readies another arrow. Not much later, a jumble of boots sounds in the stairwell. The men bust out onto the landing.

Hanzo lunges at the fourth man. Wrapping him in a choke hold that near instantly snaps his neck and fires an arrow at the third man, dropping him. He flips the dead body of the fourth man into the second man, all the while lining up another arrow for the remaining gunman. The first man drops, and Hanzo quickly pulls out his ankle knife to slit the throat of the second man before he can even get back to his feet. Hanzo whips around bow at the ready aiming it at the entrance where a semi-automatic is poised at his face.

“Never be the first man out, isn’t that how it works, Hanzo?” Axel stands over him, a wide toothy grin on his tanned face. His blond hair shines even in the dim moonlight.

Hanzo gives him a sly grin, “Hm’”.

***

McCree chugs a bottle of water as he wipes off the sweat with a towel. He chooses to forgo his hat for the day. ‘ _Can’t have it flyin’ off_ ’. As he slicks his hair back a few tendrils of it stubbornly hang in his view. He walks around to the back of his shack and unlocks the iron hatch leading to a small basement. The hatch screeches as it opens.

A souped-up red Norton Atlas glimmers up at him. God, he loved this bike. With it being so hard to get a hold of in this day and age making it even more worth hunting it down. Getting it equipped enough to be able to stand up to today’s line up while preserving the beauty was even harder. His prized jewel - second only to Peacekeeper.

McCree hauls his baby out onto the road and saddles her, feeling the seat give under him. He grabs the handles and savours the feel, trailing his eyes over her. He puts the key into the on position and kicks her on. A satisfying low rumble comes up around him. Setting back in the seat he shifts her into gear and rides off towards the jagged horizon, dust kicking up in his wake.

***

Axel stalks left, keeping his rifle levelled at Hanzo, “You know, I thought a man such as you - one of the most wanted men in the underworld - would be a bit harder to get a hold of.”

Hanzo follows him, bow pulled taut, “A smart man is seen only when he desires to be.”

Axel’s eyes narrow in an icy glare. “I knew once I got you here it would be difficult to detain you, even though you’ve no access to an armoury or outside assistance. To think you would cut so easily through not one, but two… two groups of my elite men so swiftly in a single day. I must say, I am impressed.”

Hanzo knew the man was stalling. He needed to dispatch of him and flee quickly…but his haughty nature clouded his judgement, a weakness he could not surmount. “Your flattery brings me no mirth.” He stands and kicks at the body near his feet. “They fall before me one after another; the infamous Mr. Moldenhauer produces such a weak challenge. I fear I chose an unsuitable timepass.” Hanzo casts a pretentious smile toward Axel.

Axel seethes in anger, he pulls in air threw his teeth, “Your arrogance is founded upon your skill, but I assure you, I do not disappoint.”

***

McCree rides up to an old iron gate along a long barbed-wire fence and shuts off his bike. He unsaddles his her and walks it up the dirt drive to Mrs. Shewmore’s homestead.

A brown barn sat just up the hill from the white farmhouse. A red brick chimney ran up the left side of the house, to the right the master bedroom window and above that the sole second story room of the house, the sewing room. Its green roof still looking sturdy, McCree having refurbished it himself not too long ago, a rooster wind vane squeaking cheerily on top. Its small front porch nestled in the center; just room enough for two rocking chairs. The front door was sidled up between two windows. Country radio floats easily through the screen door. McCree leaves his bike by the front step and walks up.

The kind elderly lady owned the land his little shack resided on and she was bold and hardened enough to frighten off anyone that got a mind to come hunting for him. So, from time to time he came and offered a helping hand or simply good company.

“Mrs. Shewmore,” McCree hollered into the house, “you around?”

***

Hanzo readies himself in a fighting crouch. Axel hardens his stance.

“Let us see if you can amuse me,” Hanzo pauses, narrowing his eyes “Pest!”

Axel roars, rifle in hand cracking to life, Hanzo dives to a kneeling crouch, a sweeping kick places Axel sprawling on his back, the rifle clatters to the ground several feet away. Hanzo twists posing to cut deep into Axel’s throat. Hanzo’s knife nicks the skin of Axel’s collarbone as Axel kicks, sending Hanzo flying overhead landing on his head. Disoriented, Hanzo tumbles over to all fours, vision swimming. Axel turns, kneeling, and then lunges at Hanzo. They roll toward the edge. Axel pins Hanzo by the throat, Hanzo nails him in the jaw, but Axel seizes his wrist, pressing his arm over the edge nearly breaking his forearm. Hanzo grits his teeth as their noses connect with an audible crack. Hanzo pulls in the air around him building its pressure. He releases it forward all at once. The solid wall of wind collides with Axel, sending him flying across the roof, pulling the air from his lungs.

Their separation allows Hanzo enough clarity to hear the shuffling in the stairwell. He dives for Storm bow. He turns and casts an arrow; the first man out falls. Axel laughs harshly, hauling himself to his feet, “what now Shimada?”

Men spill onto the roof, Hanzo rakes his hands across the space between him and the assault, a gust of wind spirals around him deflecting the bullets and lifting him into the air. He air hops twice towards the edge, seemingly floating in the air over the dark space below. Hanzo swiftly draws his bow, last arrow at hand.

“ ** _Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!_** ” The dragons erupt to life. Lightning, gales, and death follows in their wake.

Hanzo lands softly in the alley below. He swiftly collects the two arrows from the two kills earlier; he then sprints toward the forest outside the city. ‘ _He will lose them there’._

***

A small scuffle echoes out from the back kitchen. The short woman steps out and walks to the door unlatching it to letting McCree in, her short white hair bobbing all the way. Inside, the two-seater couch sits in front of the fireplace, with a white armchair to its right. A hand knitted quilt lay over the back of the couch, little pillows at both ends. A yellowed carpet rug rests under the brown coffee table, a single teacup resting atop it. On the Mantle sets a collection of clocks and music boxes, above them a picture of Mr Shewmore. The stubborn man had been a good friend of his. Rest his soul. Past the living room sat the kitchen. Stained pine cabinets wrapped around the wall above the counter. The stove on the left wall, with the sink two paces right, on the back wall, a small window rest above it, looking out toward the barn. Straight ahead was the back door, to its right the four-person dining table adorned with a white lace doily and three mini gold chickens. The house smelled heavenly, a mixture of potpourri and southern cooking.

“Jesse? I was beginnin’ ta’ think my greens would wilt ‘fore you’d show up.” She reaches up and places her hand on his cheek tenderly and pats twice, giving him a mischievous eye. Her wise smile is ever-present. McCree smiles down at her, “Sorry Ma’am, I had to take care of somethin’ awful important.” He’d planned on visiting the day before, unfortunately Sammy got in the way of that.

“Well, now that yer’ here, I could use your big hands.” She motions for him to follow. They turn right and head into the bedroom.

***

The crickets and cicadas create a chorus of white noise throughout the forest. Flashlights glare creating tall shadows among the evergreens. Dogs echo through the underbrush behind him as Hanzo leaps from branch to branch.

The sounds of men inch closer as he slows from exhaustion; he spins air underfoot giving leverage to further his reach. A stone wall soon comes into view; He bounds forward and clings to it then begins to climb. Near the top, the wall crumbles. He thrusts the immediate air around him out with intense force to cushion his landing into the ruins below.

The remains of the building he lands in have no roof. Moss grows on the rubble at his feet. He falters out into the ghostly streets. He spares a few seconds to look around. The cobblestone streets are cracked and frayed. The remains of bastion units litter the entire hamlet. ‘Eichenwalde, such a place of sadness’.

_***Snap*** _

Malicious growls sound behind him. Hanzo barely responds in time to bat the bounding dog away. Three others follow the first shortly thereafter. Hanzo kites back, readying his bow. His eyes glow with a blue hue as he pulls the string taut. “Swift as the wind,” an ethereal arrow made of wind forms in the arrow rest. Hanzo flips back and releases four swift shots, each ethereal arrow finding its mark. All four dogs slump to the ground.

Hanzo collapses to the ground, needles pricking his lungs. Exhaustion clings to him tirelessly. Several men appear near the stone wall and take fire at him. Hanzo rolls behind a bastion unit for cover. He breathes thrice then with a desperate gasp of breath, sprints toward the castle in the distance.

***

The door to the small ensuite bathroom squeaks as they enter. White tiles line the floor. A toilet sits to the immediate left, beside it a four-legged tub with a metal shower head poised over it. Straight ahead is a window with Peach curtains, the shutters are drawn. To the right the sink, perched above it an old fashion medicine cabinet.

“Now this darn thing’s been leakin’ on me two weeks now,” Mrs. Shewmore bends at the waist and fiddles with the piping under the sink “It’s started to soak the carpet era’ time I go to brush m’ teeth. Be a dear and fix it for me won’t ya?”

“I’ll see what I can do ma’am.” McCree gets to one knee and eyes the pipes. He lies down on his back and begins twisting the cracked curve pipe loose.

“I’ll fetch you the toolbox from the shed.” as she scuffles out, McCree leans his head against the wall. He tugs at the pipe uselessly. He sighs then closes his eyes; he opens them and gazes toward the window. He appreciates the old lady’s company, but a man that’s been alone as long as he has feels a sense of longing not so easily filled.

Mrs. Shewmore returns with the toolbox and a tall glass of fresh lemonade.

***

Hanzo busts in a side door on the castle. Cobwebs and dust tangle in his hair, loose and matting with the sweat on his brow. Bullets pelt the stone overhead. He slides under the remains of an old table just right of the entryway; glass bottles lay scattered on its surface. Two men stalk in. Hanzo jabs the knee out from under the first man. As they fall, he stabs the leg of the second and seizes his gun. He fires two killing shots into each. He keeps the gun. Eight rounds left.

A horde of men come through the doorway and he makes a dash for the main hall. Moonlight filters in through the hole in the ceiling. A decaying set of crusader armor graces the throne at the end of the hall, hammer at its side. He nods his head with respect to the fallen, and quickly scales the staircase behind it. He soon breaks out on the mossy green stone of the roof. Mindful of the timid structure he scales to a higher plateau aiming to leap for the nearest tree to make his escape. With such a sheer drop, none of them would be able to pursue him further.

Several men bust out onto the roof, followed closely by Axel. Hanzo poised to jump, gives a farewell wave.

“ ** _SHIMADA!_** ” Axel yells echoing throughout the night. A disk of ice careens through the air toward him, a bomb’s shrill cry exiting its center.

***

The wrench rattles as McCree tightens the new pipe into place. He wipes the sweat from his brow with a cloth given to him. He stands and turns on both nobs to the sink. Next, he crouches to watch the pipes. Satisfied he leaves the bathroom. “All patched up ma’am,” he says as he walks, toolbox in hand, back to the main room of the house.

“Thank you dear, now come and eat,” she motions to the plate resting on the table. A large bone-in pork chop adorns the majority of the ceramic with boiled greens at its side. Pork jaw mingled in the dark emerald slump. McCree sets down in the chair and cuts himself a thick slice of cornbread. He eats quietly and quickly while Mrs. Shewmore busies herself with the dishes. When he finishes he stand and take the dishes to the sink. He then walks to the door.

“Well, ma’am I best get on the road, Thank you kindly for the meal.” Mrs. Shewmore hugs him and hands him a jar of peach preserves as he leaves. He places the jar in the saddlebag on the Atlas then walks her out to the gate and climbs on. He peers back up at the house, lights shine from the window in the dimming light of the setting sun. He kicks on the bike and rides home.

McCree stows his bike away and walks to the front of the shack. He walks in and places the peaches in the cupboard above the stove. Turning he walks to the little side table and takes the bourbon from yesterday in hand. He settles down into his chair and pours himself a glass, dry. He takes a sip, and stares out the window, watching as the sand starts to kick up, a sandstorm visible on the horizon.

***

Hanzo, exhausted and desperate, boils in anger. He knows he’s left with no other choice. He must use his lightning. Time slows for him as his tattoo cracks to life, lightning leaving his skin, peeling from his eyes and encompassing his being. He strikes the bomb from the air. It detonates instantly. A blinding light sears his retinas as he is pulled toward the blast.

Suddenly, he lands on hard earth with dust gritty in his lungs. Sand whips furiously all around him. Shuffling sounds around him.

He is not alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Shifting Sands Chapter 3

The sands slap against the shack in a rhythmic pattern as the storm continues to rage. McCree knows from experience one can’t see their own feet in that whirling mass. He places his holoscreen down on the side table. ‘ _That’s enough news fer’ the month_ ’, he drags his hand down his face and takes a deep breath. He needed to decide what to do with himself. Winston’s message had put him in a state of unrest. He missed having a purpose and going to commit illegal activities with a group of old acquaintances, or maybe even old friends, wasn’t much different from what he’s been doing the past seven years. Yet he continued to put it off.

McCree shakes his head, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind for now. He lifts his index finger and swishes in a figure eight pattern. Sand pulls up from the cracks in the floor and nestles around the bourbon. He draws an 'n' pattern in the air and the bottle tilts to fill his empty glass. He lifts his finger, the glass floats. He draws a circle and the glass comes to sit in his hand. He lifts it to his lips.

_***Flash*** _

**_*Crack*_ **

The shack floods with light, it shakes with the crack that erupts outside. McCree recoils. Blinded momentarily from the intensity, he turns to look outside. There’s lightning dancing in the sand, gunfire echoes among the sounds of thunder. He surges up and grabs Peacekeeper from his holster on the hook. He slowly opens the door and eases out into the darkness. The storm thrashes around him. He’s forced to bury his face into his serape to guard from its onslaught. He concentrates to force the sand back from his eyes heightening his clarity only slightly.

A figure lunges at him; he drops just in time to dodge. He comes up behind and fires a single shot into the back of its skull. The man falls, he hears scuffling further in. Lightning continues to crack erratically. McCree crouches; he turns into sand and slithers closer. He sees four other figures further in. The one in the center glows, lightning encircling it. The figure strikes at the other directly in front of it sending lightning through its head. It then twists and lightning wipes towards the figure behind it, the lightning penetrates the chest of the figure and it falls. The last figure raises its gun prepared to fire but doesn’t get the chance. The center figure pulls the other figure up from its feet by a gust of wind and decapitates it with a strip of lightning.

Now alone, the figure shakes. The aura around it grows. Then shatters. McCree has no time to dodge; a bolt hits him, searing his sands. The smell of burning flesh floats through the air. Painful memories dance with the pain. McCree remains there, frozen.

The last figure kneels. A man is now visible as the sands start to settle, the storm finally passing. He’s broad and muscular, with long pitch-black hair, shaved on the sides. It is held back in a high bun. Or would be if not for the disarray and sweat causing it to tack to the man’s forehead. He is clothed in dark pants that bag around his thighs and become increasingly fitted as they approach the man’s black combat boots. The boots themselves have steel details on either side of the toe. On his torso, he wears a high collared jacket with a yellow seamline. A silver dragon decal adorns the right sleeve. A quiver clings to his back and a bow rests at his side.

He lifts his head; his eyes are a fiery electric blue. Slowly, they lose their color and fade to a golden chocolate brown. A bridge piercing adorns his nose. There is a cut going through his left eyebrow and part of the eye, it is sluggishly bleeding. The lightning from before seems to soak back into him. McCree flusters, the man is gorgeous. McCree can’t help but feel heat rise in his cheeks.

An arrow flies toward him; McCree shifts a hole in himself to avoid it. It lands dead center.

“I know you’re there, I can sense you. Seeing as you have not attacked, I presume you are no threat….”

The silence stretches for just long enough to make it eerie.

“Show yourself.”

McCree deliberates for a short second. “You could say ‘Hello’. Ain’t fond of getting’ shot at.” McCree pulls himself up, reforming. His shirt is torn; the lightning inflicted a raw burn from collarbone to sternum. With arrow in hand he slowly approaches the man. He holds out the arrow. “I believe this is yours?”

The man takes it cautiously and stands. McCree cocks his hip and places his thumbs in his belt loops. “Mind tellin’ me why you’re droppin’ corpses in my yard?”

The storm dissipates, leaving the two men standing in the chilly, clear night. The wind ripples their clothes. The moon just over the horizon shines down on them. Both men regard each other quietly.

***

Hanzo turns to the man in front of him. He’s tall, perhaps half a head taller than himself, just enough to require Hanzo to tilt his head up to make eye contact. His blue flannel stretches across his broad shoulders. He stands lax, even being injured. Hanzo feels a pang of annoyance in his chest at not being able to control his lightning. Light wash jeans hang low on the man’s hips, held there by a ridiculous gleaming gold buckle, a Stetson a top his head and brown leather boots on his feet. He’s roguishly attractive Hanzo reluctantly admits. Disgruntled, Hanzo speaks, “I was unaware I was in your yard, none the less I thank you for your assistance.” He motions to the body with the single gunshot wound.

“Well then…” The man smirks at his remark. “How’d a pretty thing like you get here?”

“I…” Hanzo blushes at the pet name and stares at the man in surprise. He looks around taking in his odd new location. The last thing he remembers is the bomb, losing all sense of himself and being pulled into the blast. Then he was here – wherever ‘here’ was. It was not Germany that was for certain.

Hanzo glares at the man, “I do not know.”

The man hunches forward a bit recoiling from the severity of his words. Lifting his hand, he scratches at the back of his head. He takes his hat off and runs his hand through his tawny brown locks, “Names McCree, Jesse McCree. This here’s my little piece of heaven. Smack dab in the middle of who-knows-where, an’ if ya’ don’t mind me askin’, what’s your name sugar?”

Jesse McCree, Hanzo had heard the name. The Overwatch agent turn outlaw was wanted the world over for a myriad of illegal offenses. He would dare to say the man’s bounty rivalled his own. If the numbers and stories were anything to go by, this man was dangerous, just as dangerous as himself. He decides it would be wise to tread lightly. Hanzo straightens and offers a slight bow, “Hanzo Shimada.”

They exchanged looks. McCree’s one of slight surprise, Hanzo’s a solid neutrality.

McCree whistles low, “Shimada huh?” to think he’d meet Genji’s ornery brother. God he hoped he wasn’t as bad as Genji had made it seem. He sure as hell wasn’t going to start anything himself, as per Genji’s request. The brother’s relationship wasn’t his business anyway. “Well, since you’re here, come on in. I got an extra glass and you look like you could use a drink.” He turns and heads back toward the shack.

Hanzo watches as McCree walks away, Wary of McCree’s seeming familiarity of his name. Being both an outlaw and ex-agent opens a Pandora’s Box of possibilities for his recognition. Hanzo’s anxiety flares. He takes a moment to centre himself and then follows.

**_*slump*_ **

McCree turns back; he sees Hanzo collapsed on the ground unconscious. ‘ _Aw shit_ ’, he rushes over to him and kneels down. He slowly turns him over then checks for a pulse, it’s there but slow. He’s just sleeping. McCree sighs in relief. He cradles Hanzo in his arms and walks to the shack.

He lays Hanzo down softly on the bed, and then retrieves the medical kit from under the sink. He opens it to locate a bio-emitter. Setting the emitter to low, the room soon fills with medicated waves of relief. ‘ _Fuck that feels good._ ’ McCree basks for shortly. He then turns back to Hanzo.

He unlatches his boots and places them at the foot of the bed. Next, he unzips Hanzo’s jacket and slides it off gently. McCree is taken aback, Hanzo’s entire left arm is painted in an intricate dragon tattoo, lightning and clouds interweaving with the beast as it spirals the length of the arm. It’s the most beautiful piece of work McCree has ever seen. He strokes his fingers down it, following the intricate scales from shoulder to wrist. He pulls his hand back. ‘ _Not the time, nor place McCree._ ’

He then folds the jacket and sets it aside. Hanzo wears a black sleeveless turtleneck under-armor shirt. Its skin tight and hugs every muscle, which Hanzo has a lot of. ‘…Damn,’ McCree bites his lip and blushes. McCree turns away and wets a cloth. There are no visible injuries on Hanzo’s main body so he focuses on cleaning the cut on his brow. He dresses the cut and rinses the cloth then lays it on Hanzo’s forehead.

McCree leaves Hanzo to rest and walks to the kitchen. He peels off his shirt letting it fall to the floor. He stands over the sink and begins tending to his injury. He scrapes off the dried blood. The pain still permeates from the large burn. It’s just a heavy reminder his sands aren’t impervious to everything. McCree’s eyes drift to his prosthetic; a bitter seed floods his chest. He cleans the burn and covers it with fresh gauze. He changes into his red flannel and slides on his red serape. He walks out into the cobalt night. He carries one of the bodies to its final resting place, later the others follow.

***

Hanzo wakes slowly; he finds it hard to open his eyes, exhaustion still clinging to him. He manages though and stares at the ceiling, briefly confused at where he is. He looks around the room; it is dim, lit by a single bulb from the other room. He notices his boots and jacket folded on the floor. Slowly setting up he feels of the cut on his brow. There is a glass of water on the floor by his side. He reaches for it and downs it in three large swallows. His eyes then fall to McCree; the man is slumped against the wall sleeping peacefully. Hanzo huffs to himself, to think this man would be so comfortable to sleep with an assassin in his bed.

He is thankful for the man’s kindness however. If he’d collapsed in the forest, he would be dead. Hanzo eases up off the bed to stand, he wobbles on his feet. He removes his armoured mitsugake and arm guard placing them to join his other things. He finds his bow, quiver, and bag in the other room. He is comforted that the gunslinger did not neglect them. He walks over to McCree’s holoscreen and opens it; the Overwatch symbol spins on the desktop. A video is minimized in the corner, an email below it. Hanzo pulls it up; it’s from Genji. Hanzo’s eyes widen. McCree knows his brother? How? For how long? Were they close? Does he know of their past? If he does, why had he helped him?

“Hope you weren’t plannin’ on leavin’ like that,”

Hanzo jumps, he spins to face McCree now standing in the bedroom doorway, a shit eating grin on his face. How could a man in fucking spurs be that quiet?! Hanzo narrows his eyes, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained I suppose,” Hanzo gives his own smart-ass grin. It’s quiet between them.

“Look…” McCree starts.

“Thank you for treating me,” Hanzo interrupts. They stare at each other.

“You’re welcome.” McCree looks at the holoscreen then back to Hanzo. McCree sighs and slumps into his leather chair. “Genji messaged me a week ago. He wants me to join the recall. We were somewhat like partners back in Blackwatch, friends even.” McCree pauses. “What happened between you two ain’t none of my business, an imma’ keep it that way.” McCree says finitely. “Anyway, I’d planned on headin’ that way, Lord knows I ain’t doin’ much wasting away ‘round here, but things hadn’t gone as planned. What with a recent attempt on me and all. Now, I don’t know where you’re headin’, but I figure we could make this little meetin’ work out for the both of us. You watch my back I’ll watch yours and we split when one of us gets where we’re goin’.” McCree sits back finished with his statement.

Hanzo remains silent for a long moment. Two weeks ago, Genji had confronted him on his annual return to Hanamura. ‘It’s time to pick a side’, he had offered Hanzo a place in the newly revived organization, but Hanzo had not responded. Hanzo had been in denial the following week, but he soon decided to follow through with the offer. If his honor could be regained he would see to it that it would be. He’d been making his way to Gibraltar when Axel had contacted him.

“Our destinations appear to align,” McCree’s eyes widen in surprise “…Genji revealed himself to me and he spoke with me about allying myself with this new Overwatch, I had been making my way to Gibraltar when…,” Hanzo frowns, what exactly had happened…? he continues, “When I found myself here. It would be wise for us to cooperate.” McCree smiles, “That does not mean I trust you.”

McCree snarks, “I hear ya’ pumpkin’”. He pulls out a cigarillo and lights it, taking a long draw. “Seeing as you had ‘friends’, and I had an unwanted visitor not but a day ago, I’m glad we see eye to eye.”

“I do not suppose you have a plan for getting us to Gibraltar?” Hanzo quips.

“Sure do,” McCree stands and walks over to stand by Hanzo, he opens a window on the holoscreen, it shows a man ‘Charles Trettin’, a pilot and owner of a small airliner port in northern Maine. “This here’s Charlie, He owes me fer’ saving his daughter from fallen off a cliff a couple years back. Figure he can get us a transport overseas.” McCree exits that screen and pulls up a hyper train satellite map. He points to a station in Dallas. “This station here has a train due to leave in three days to New York. Figured’ we could hop skip jump over there, ‘then pamper our lazy asses all the way up.” McCree flashes a toothy grin as Hanzo.

Hanzo had to admit he was impressed. Though with McCree’s record, he supposed it shouldn’t have been a surprise. The man’s appearance was misleading. “I will need a supplier, if you know of one in the area. We can plan our route to the statio…”

“We can talk serious business tomorrow. You may have already gotten it Darlin’ but, I need my beauty sleep.” McCree interrupts and yawns, scratching his scruffy face. “You can take the bed, I’ll take the chair.” He practically falls into the chair and is out before Hanzo even gets the chance to rebuttal.

Hanzo furrows his brow; ‘Ridiculous man,’ a slight heat in his cheeks. He turns off the holoscreen and walks back to the bed. He sinks into the plush surface. The quality of the mattress is rather surprising. Hanzo thinks about the man in the other room, and of how he found himself in his company. He’s fast asleep before he even realizes it, strangely at ease.

***  
An engine rumbles and kills. A lumbering figure steps out of the large black truck a GPS tracker in their hand, pinging. It walks over to the plaque half buried in the copper dirt. They kneel before the grave. Tears stream down their cheeks and pepper the clay. The figure stands and lobs the GPS violently into the night. It shatters a great distance away. They roar agonizingly as they collapse to the dirt. “Don’t you worry Sammy baby, my jewel, Imma’ find him, an’ Imma’ take from him what he took from me… **_Everything_**.”


	4. Chapter 4

** Shifting Sands Chapter 4 **

_(Important: The weapon later in the story used by the bounty hunter in Mexico is a modified bolo tie, it is made of wire and the pendant is a heating fixture, it enables the tie to decapitate and cauterize when cinched.)_

    McCree stirs just as the first light kisses the horizon, turning the sky into an array of blazing orange, vermillion, and lavender; the shy blue basking amongst them. McCree stands and looks to the other room, Hanzo lies on the bed, chest rising and falling steadily. He turns to the cabinet and grabs a bottle of painkillers; god knows he’ll need um. ‘So much for a ‘good night’s sleep’’, He downs four pills with a glass of water.

He peels off his shirt and leans over the sink to wash his hair. He then cleans up his face in the mirror. Satisfied with his priming, he briefly considers grabbing a clean shirt but decides against it so as not to awaken Hanzo. He tosses his old shirt in the corner with the rest of his dirty clothes. He peels off the gauze from his wound and treats it, then dresses it with clean dressings.

When finished, he stows the kit away and returns to the kitchen. He doesn’t have much in the ways of food, but with the rye bread, dried heirloom beans, bacon, leftover avocado and peach preserves, there is the makings of a decent meal in his opinion. He sets his beans to soak and looks over the route they’ll take to his supplier in Santa Fe.

He occupies himself while the beans soak with a cigarillo outside. A couple hours pass and he walks back in. He heats a pan and cooks up the bacon, while two slices of bread tick away in the toaster. He takes the beans from the water and fries them in the leftover bacon grease. Once they're cooked to his liking he mashes them and smears some on half a slice of toast, he lays avocado over them. He spoons a dollop of peach preserves on the side and calls it good.

***grunt***

McCree hears Hanzo stir in the other room. He smirks to himself and scoops up the plates.

***

Hanzo wakes to the sunlight streaming from under the door, he sits up with a groan. The smell of bacon wafts through the air. Hanzo turns and places his feet on the floor, but before he can stand the door opens.

“Mornin’” McCree greets him. Shirtless.

“Good Morning,” Hanzo nods briefly stunned by the man’s soft-toned muscular chest. A water droplet glides down McCree’s chest from his still slightly damp hair.

“Figured’ you’d be mighty famished, what with the day you had yesterday,” He places the plate down on Hanzo’s lap. Then quickly returns with two glasses of water. He sits down on the floor across from Hanzo with his own plate in hand.

Hanzo’s takes in the meal on his lap. The golden preserves are nestled up against the glistening crispy bacon. Hanzo soon realizes just how starved he feels with the pain that blossoms in his gut, he drools slightly. He snaps from his trance and wipes the drool on the back of his hand. He picks up a strip of bacon and scoops up the sweet preserves onto it. The sweet and salty flavor is heavenly in his mouth.

He notices McCree waits kindly till he’s nearly done with his beans on toast to speak.

“So, if you were headed to Gibraltar, How’d you end up here?” McCree says as he finishes chewing a strip of bacon and reaches for his water glass.

Hanzo takes a strip of avocado, chews and swallows it before answering. “As I stated before, I do not know. I had been on a job in Germany when they double-crossed me, I was forced to flee and the last I remember is being confronted with a bomb. I destroyed it. After the explosion, I found myself here.”

“Did you use your lightning to destroy it?” McCree inquires.

“Yes…” Hanzo now finished eating, sips at his water.

“Sounds to me like you might a’ made a rift, what with all that energy being concentrated in one place.” McCree shrugs.

“Rift? Like a kind of space rift?” Hanzo furrows his brow in ah that McCree would have this type of knowledge.

“Yeah, had it happen to me once back in my service days. One second, I was facin’ off against some baddies in Russia, the next, I’m laid out on my ass in the middle a flock of sheep in New Zealand. Helluv’ a ride. Took Winston two weeks to figure out what had happened.” McCree stands and motions for Hanzo’s plate.

“I see…” Hanzo hands the plate over and leans back on his arms on the bed. “By any means, the coincidence of my appearance here was a blessing in disguise for the both of us it seems.” McCree flashes him a wide smile and walks to the kitchen. Hanzo follows.

McCree places the plates in the sink and gives them a quick rinse. “I’m assumin’ you’ll want to shower before we head out. Imma’ pack up some things and get my bike ready.” McCree walks into the bedroom, Hanzo hears him rustling around. The man returns carrying a bundle of clothes and a sleek grey duffle bag. “Help yourself to anything ya’ see.” McCree motions to the soaps near the shower and then proceeds to exit the shack leaving Hanzo to himself.

Hanzo looks at the door for a short moment, He then walks over to his bag and pulls out his comb, razor, and tea soup bar. He lays them on the floor by the wall mirror. He peels off his remaining clothes and folds them individually, laying them over the back of the leather recliner. Lastly, he pulls the yellow silk tie from his hair; it cascades over his shoulders. He reaches up and runs his fingers over his scalp, savouring the release. He turns the knob and allows it to heat up before stepping under the spray.

Hanzo’s sharp cheekbones glisten in the light. He scrubs his hands over the hardened edge of his abs and hip bone. His hard-toned body feels good under is touch. He takes his razor and runs over every inch of himself; he trims up his unruly lower bush, and then trims his beard. He washes his face and hair then rinses off. He towels off and wrings out his hair, then ties it into a high ponytail, his hair and silken ribbon drape down his back. He slips on a black cut-out tank and his Aztec designed pants and puts his gear over top, he then sits in the leather chair to lace and buckle up his boots.

He moves over to his bag and checks its contents. He will need to replace his missing knife, as well as a heady set of arrows and arrowheads. He reaches for Storm bow and gives it an once-over. His bow could use tuning when there was time for it. He repacks then straps on his bag and quiver and places Storm bow over his shoulder.

He then walks out into the morning sun. It’s not hot quite yet but Hanzo senses that will soon change. He talks off his jacket and ties it around his waist. He then turns and makes his way to the back of the shed, where he hears McCree scuffling about.

***

McCree walks around to the back of the shed and opens the hatch. He climbs down into the basement and walks over to his workbench. He places the duffle bag and change of clothes down. He turns and strips, then slips on the clean Shirt and brown suede pants, he rolls up the bottom a couple loops. He folds and places the dirty clothes in the duffle.

He then takes his chest armour off the wall and straps it on. He turns back and takes the chaps off the wall from where they’re hanging and folds them; placing them in the duffle. He takes his holster and straps it on placing Peacekeeper in her place. He unzips a side pocket of the duffle and places spare bullets and flash bangs in it, as well as essentials such as painkillers, sterile wrap, a flashlight, granola bars, and a tin for water.

He places the packed duffle in the saddle bag of the Atlas and buckles it. He slips his switch knife and the bike keys in his pocket, then wraps on his serape; topping it all off with his beloved hat. He takes his bike and pulls it up out onto the packed desert clay then closes and latches the hatch.

Hanzo walks around the corner.

“All packed and ready to go.” McCree tips his hat at Hanzo and winks. “You look refreshed.”

Hanzo ignores the gesture, “The shower was agreeable. Is this the only mode of transportation you have?” Hanzo motions to the Atlas, less than pleased.

McCree cocks his head and looks from the bike to Hanzo and back. “If you’re hatin’ on her, you can just walk. Or we could travel by Sand,” McCree looks Hanzo in the eye. “Or lightning in your case.”

Hanzo bristles, “That would be unsafe and impractical for energy conservation.”

To that McCree moves to the bike and mounts it. He turns and pats the back seat, grinning at Hanzo. Hanzo walks over and saddles the bike behind McCree.

McCree starts the bike and looks back at Hanzo. “Hold on Darlin’,” McCree kicks the bike to life and guns off. Hanzo flails back but finds his hands soon clasp securely around McCree’s waist.  He frowns slightly to himself from how much he likes it more than he should. McCree grins to himself all the while. They fall into a comfortable silence.

***

They make it to the supplier in Santa Fe by the late afternoon.

McCree pulls into the alleyway and knocks on the side door of a redbrick apartment building in a rundown part of town. Hanzo stands beside him. A cat walks out from behind a dumpster, completely black all over except for two small white dots just above its brow arches. “You have horns, my friend.” It mewls at him; Hanzo bends down and calmly strokes it. The small hatch at eye level on the door slides open and McCree exchanges words with the man.

Soon the door swings open and they are let inside. The cat follows. The room inside is small, each wall of redbrick possess a fluorescent bar light. The wall across from the door has a waist-high counter, above that are bars to protect the seller; flaking green paint hanging from them. On the left wall is a pair of Iron doors, their glass windows fogged with years of grime. One door is cracked, showing a training mat and small target range inside. The cat leaps up onto the counter and squeezes under the bars, there is a small red pillow on a stool on the opposite side, it jumps up and rolls over on the pillow, all four paws in the air stretching languidly. The man who opened the door seals it and sits down on a padded chair in the corner. He picks up his newspapers and resumes reading it. He’s bulky but seemingly unarmed. But they all know that is a lie.

McCree makes his way up to the counter and knocks on it. “Melanie, you here?”

“Jesse, what brings your sorry ass to my shop?” A thin woman with bright purple shoulder length hair and a septum piercing walks out from the shadows among rows of shelves, she’s tan with black lipstick; a small gold chain hangs around her neck. She wears all skin-tight white clothes. “Oh! And you’ve brought company.” Her eye peruses Hanzo, “Mmmmm, and what fine company it is.”

“Don’t you got a man back home Mel?” McCree raises a brow.

“Just because a girl’s on a diet doesn’t mean she can’t browse the menu, and maybe taste test a little. Now, are you here for business? Or pleasure?” She places her hand on the counter and leans toward Hanzo accentuating her chest.

Hanzo sneers disinterestedly and looks to McCree.

“Sorry Mel, we’re here on pure business. I need a case of bullets and a bottle of gun oil. Also, whatever he needs.” McCree motions with his thumb back at Hanzo.

Hanzo moves forward, “I require a set of arrows, arrowheads, and a serrated pocket knife.”

“’humph’, aren’t you both needy.” She grins at them, “give me an hour and I’ll have it ready for you.” She waves them off and disappears back amongst the shelves, her bladed heels clicking in the darkness.

McCree turns to Hanzo, “you wanna’ spar to pass the time?”

Hanzo huffs amusedly, “I doubt you will present much of a challenge.”

McCree grins wickedly, “Hey now, don’t knock me till you try me.” He flicks his nose with his thumb and saunters into the training room. He removes his armor, hat, serape, and boots. Hanzo follows and removes his arm guard, bag, and boots. They both face each other on the mat and Hanzo bows then ready himself. “Now Darlin’ don’t you feel you have to take it easy on me.” McCree brings his fists up.

McCree swings forward with his left hand. Like a whip, Hanzo flashes out grabs McCree’s arm, curls into him and flips him over his shoulder onto the mat. “I never take it easy.”

McCree grunts on the mat, he rolls over and stands back up. He looks up at Hanzo with a wolfish grin. “Again.”

They ready themselves once more. Hanzo strikes out, going yet again for a disarm and takedown. McCree responds my fanning away. He surges back with a fake left jab when Hanzo responds he then glides his right arm around Hanzo’s head and pulls it back straight against his spine and forces him to the floor. Hanzo collapses and stares up at McCree standing smugly over him. He gets up and readies himself once more.

The next hour consists of both men equally being thrown, pulled, flipped, and driven into the mat. Both with a permanent grin on their face.

A bell rings from the other room. “ _’Ahem’_ Gentlemen I hate to interrupt your date, but I have your items ready.” Melanie spouts from the other room. Hanzo scoffs and walks over to his things to redress. McCree grins and does the same. They both walk out and pay for their items. “Farewell, my dears!” She waves goodbye from her side of the counter. They walk to the door and out into the alley. McCree packs away his items and Hanzo stashes his things in his quiver bag.

“Do you want to stop for the night?” McCree flashes a raised eyebrow to Hanzo.

“That might be wise.” Hanzo joins McCree on the bike and they ride off.

Soon they pull up in front of a rather nice-looking hotel. McCree parks and turns to his duffle. He takes off his hat, and slicks back his hair. He removes his serape and folds it into the duffle. He straightens the wrinkles from his shirt; buttons it completely and tucks it in his pants. He pulls out a pair of thin frame glasses from his bag and places them low on his face. He then places the grey duffle on his shoulder and motions for Hanzo to follow. They make their way inside and to the front desk.

“Hello, a double king suit please, if you don’t mind.” McCree flashes a bright smile with a cheer Hanzo has yet to see from the man. His accent is completely different, and he exudes an arrogant energy.

“Of course, sir, May I have the name and duration of stay?” The receptionist chirps back typing away at the holoscreen.

“Joel Morricone for a single night.” McCree takes out his wallet and pulls out a credit card. It reads Joel J Morricone in the name slot. They pay and are given a room number. In the elevator, McCree is eerily quiet. Once they are in their room McCree shakes out his hair, takes off the glasses and returns them to their case in the duffle. “Which bed you want?” he asks as he simultaneously lays down on one of the two.

Hanzo lays his bag against the wall; he then smirks at McCree who has one eye open at him. “I will use the bathroom first.” Hanzo proceeds to grab an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants from his bag and locks the door to the bathroom behind him.

McCree rolls over and strips down to his underwear, taking a pair of sweatpants from his bag and slips them on. He lies down on the bed and tucks under the top downy comforter.

He smiles to himself. A feeling of fondness blooms in his chest. Not having to explain Joel to Hanzo was comforting. Hanzo knew the need of such alter egos, the requirement to be a different person when the time called for it. He turned over on his side and closed his eyes.

McCree was asleep when Hanzo came out of the bathroom. He pulled back the layers of his bed and crawled in. He turned off the shared porcelain lamp and folded into himself. His breath slowed gradually as he drifted off.

***

They wake at sunrise and travel all morning, they make it to a small Texas town about six hours from Dallas by lunchtime and they decide to stop and eat. Hanzo picks a classic looking diner. McCree comments that it looks a lot like the panorama Diner from back home. “Let’s hope the coffee’s at least drinkable.” They walk in and are seated into a red faux leather booth.

They are both given menus, McCree orders coffee and a glass of water, Hanzo requests mineral water. “I’ll get your drinks and you can order with me when you’re ready” chirps the waitress. She returns with their drinks and they shoo her off till later.

McCree looks over to Hanzo and seems about to say something when a ring echoes out from his pocket. McCree retrieves his communicator and looks at the ID. He furrows his brow and answers.

“Hello Mrs. Shewmore, I’m afraid I ain’t home right now so if you need help….” McCree pauses, his eyes widen. He takes the earpiece out from the communicator and hands it to Hanzo. Hanzo places it in his ear.

“ _Jesse, I needed to tell you. There was a man that came to my home searching for you.”_

“Are you alr...?” McCree starts.

_“I am fine, a bit worse for wear but alive, Son I need to know your safe. Ease this old lady’s heart.”_ She interrupts him and pleads.

“I am fine Mrs. I am off pretty far with a friend,” McCree says with a soft voice.

_“Good.”_ She seems soothed.

“Can you tell us what happened?” McCree ducks his head into his hand propped on the table.

***

_A knock sounds from the front step. Mrs. Shewmore scuffles to the screen and raises her eyes, her smiles drops. A Large hulking man stands on the other side. His skin is dark, presumably of mixed descent, freckles scatter across his face. His short, auburn red hair is shaved short. He wears a black short sleeve jacket with a white chest plate over it, military-grade pants with several large pockets adorn his legs; mid-calf boots on his feet._

_“Hello Ma’am,” The man pushes open the screen door and forces his way in, “I’m looking for a man by the name of Jesse McCree. I hear tell you might know where he is.” He leans forward a bit casting a shadow over her._

_“I am sorry but, I must ask you to leave.” She moves around him and toward the door. The man spins and grabs her by the throat thrusting her up against the wall. He continues normally. “You see, he took something real’ important from me. An’ I plan to make him pay for it.” Mrs. Shewmore grabs the vase on the side table near her and attempts to smash it over his head. The man grabs her arm however and bends it back, breaking it with a sickening snap. She screams out in pain. “Now, you either tell me where his little shithole is in this godforsaken dead land, or I can drag you around behind my truck with me till I find it.” He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a large chain._

***

A Shadow busts in the door of McCree’s shack. No one is home. The man angrily kicks the side table; it shatters into pieces against the opposite wall. A glare of light catches his eye. He walks over the holoscreen and presses it on. The figure smiles viciously. “Don’t you worry Sammy, I got him.”

***

 

_“After that, I gave him the coordinates of your shack and prayed for your safety. I know you can handle yourself Jesse, but I still worry.”_ Mrs. Shewmore quips.

“Thank you kindly for the warning Ma’am, I’ll keep a sharp eye out. You get yourself to the hospital now you hear me?” McCree says his pleasantries and hangs up.

He looks at Hanzo as a mixture of emotions crosses his face. Anger, yes, but fear too. Soon, they all melt away and a solemn mask takes their place. “We might have company.”

Hanzo nods, “Do you know if the hunter that made an attempt on your life two days ago worked alone?”

McCree gives him a quizzical eye. “I don’t rightly know.”

They finish their meal and rent a motel for the night. All afternoon they spend researching If Sammy had any recorded partners. Only when searching through a deleted social media page do they find a single name that catches McCree’s eye. Garrett Hazel. The profile shows a single picture of Sammy and Garrett kissing with a caption at the bottom that reads: “To the love of my life, I am hopeful for our bright future.” beside it there’s a wedding ban emoji. Hanzo finds an article on him, “Garrett Peter Hazel, ex-military SEP soldier, he turned to bounty hunting after the programs fall out. His success rate is 96%”

They decide to rest and rise early. They leave in the morning before the suns first rays taint the black sky. They make it to the station before the sun even separates from the horizon. The train is due to depart later in the morning. McCree stows his bike in a garage. They board the train from the back and sneak into the rearmost cabin. Not until the train finally starts to excel down the rail does either man relax. McCree sits back and takes a nap as the train crosses state after state. Hanzo busies himself with his holopad.

“Dear passengers, we will be making our planned stop at Charlotte in ten minutes. Please buckle and have a wonderful day.” The intercom announces overhead. They pull into the station and come to a halt.

McCree stands, “Imma’ take a leak.” He opens the door to their booth and stops when he enters the hall.

Their car is strangely quiet.

McCree reaches for Peacekeeper but has no time to draw before a black bulk slams into him. Garrett nails him in the jaw with a flying punch and knocks him to the floor. Peacekeeper flies down the hall. He pulls a heavy chain from his pocket and goes to wrap it around McCree’s neck.

Hanzo reacts instantly; he lunges forward and grapples around his neck, slinging his legs up over his shoulder and pulling Garrett to the floor. He gets to McCree and pulls him to his feet, but Garrett recovers and grabs for McCree’s ankle, “So weak you can’t even take me alone? Gotta’ have a bodyguard?” Garrett taunts. McCree kicks at his face bending it obscenely back breaking his nose, blood runs down over his lips. Hanzo gets him to his feet as the train is beginning to move again. McCree grabs Peacekeeper from the floor. They make it to the door of the car and attempt to move to the next car up when Garrett catches McCree’s serape and nearly pulls him over the side of the now blindingly fast speeding train. Hanzo scales the train to the roof and pulls McCree up. Garrett soon follows.

“Nowhere to run now,” Garrett whips out his chain and stalks forward. The train is extremely unsteady. They are forced to near crawl to keep footing as they move toward the engine.

McCree turns to Hanzo, “I can’t use my sand at this high a speed, I’ll get ripped away, and Peacekeepers out of commission if I can’t aim.

Hanzo nods and quickly unleashes an arrow into the behemoth of a man. It lands solidly in his shoulder, but the man doesn’t falter. Hanzo releases another, it lands in his neck and still, the man does not slow. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s breathing heavily, seemingly running off pure fury and adrenaline.

Garret roars at the two men, now gating toward them as they clamber up the train. “My arrows have no effect!” Hanzo yells.

McCree looks back at Garret now merely two meters away. “Use your lightning!” McCree shouts.

Hanzo stares at McCree and hesitates. “I can’t”.

McCree looks at him confused, “Why not?!” at this moment Garret closes the distance and throws himself into McCree. They roll, violently trading blows. They topple over the edge and McCree catches the rail bar just barely, Garret clings to him.

Hanzo moves swiftly to the edge and grabs a hold of McCree’s hand. “You are coming with me, you son of a bitch!” Garret bellows from below.

“Hanzo! Use it!” McCree pleads. Their grip slips just a bit.

“He’s too close to you - if I do you’ll get hit by the current!” Hanzo exclaims.

Times stills when Hanzo catches the smiles on McCree’s face, “I trust you.”

Hanzo stares at him for mere seconds, a searing white light lifts from his tattoo and his eyes sprout small arks of electric blue. A bolt lifts from his back and strikes Garrett in the chest, sending a current ripping through his body. Both men scream in agony. Garrett slumps and falls from McCree, His body hits the fast-moving earth below soon out of sight and sooner forgotten. 

Hanzo immediately pulls McCree back up on the car. He’s unconscious. Hanzo moves them both back to their cabin and lays McCree down on the floor. There’s no pulse. Hanzo tries CPR on him to no avail.

He screams. Lightning shatters off of him, shattering the glass around them. McCree convulses when he’s hit. Hanzo’s eyes widen with an idea. He grabs for McCree’s prosthetic and grips it tightly. Hanzo sends a shock through it, nothing. He tries again, McCree sucks in a gasp of air. Hanzo feels for a pulse, it’s erratic but most definitely there. Hanzo breathes a sigh of relief and slumps back against the seat.

When the Train reaches the New York station the sun is nearly gone. McCree is awake when they arrive; they exit the train and find an old abandoned apartment building to hold up in. They both feel safer in a no-name place like this. Hanzo moves a heavy desk in front of the door. The only pieces of furniture in the dilapidated studio apartment are a mattress in the corner and industrial spool meant to as a table. Hanzo helps McCree lay down on the mattress.

It’s quiet; aside from the club music weakly bubbling in through the crack in the window.

“Thank you,” McCree breaks the silence.

“I nearly killed you.” Hanzo is facing away from him. He isn’t angry with McCree but feels the need to distance himself. If the man harbors any ill-will toward him, he will bare it. He deserves it.

“Yeah, but you also saved me….twice.” McCree sits up. “Look, Hanzo I know what it’s like to be scared. To not want to use a part of yourself.”

Hanzo whips around staring daggers at him. “How would you know? Sand is slow and child’s play compared to lightning. Do you have any idea how much constant focus I am forced to maintain to keep the lightning contained?  To keep it from destroying everything around me? To keep it…from hurting anyone..,”  ‘ _From hurting you_ ’. Hanzo curls in on himself. His lightning has always been unruly, even as a child he excelled at everything else. The elders would prod him, cajole him to master it, he had tried. When he was told to confront Genji…things had gone too far…he had only meant to use it to hinder him…but… Hanzo crouches; he cups his head between his hands making him look even smaller.

“Hanzo,” McCree crawls off the mattress and over to him, “Hanzo, you don’ have to…you don’t. Gaw!” He holds his prosthetic out in front of him, “you see this?” Hanzo nods. “It was about two years after I’d left Overwatch; I got caught by a hunter down in Mexico. Back then I was still green around the edges, still used to being taken care of, I had a hold on my sands but I thought I was untouchable. All I’d ever really used em’ for was to dodge bullets and Deadeye. He caught me real close, and it came to blows real’ quick. We were tradin’ punches left and right when the guy got his weird bolo wrapped around my arm. I turned to sand to try and slip out of it but it hurt so damn bad I couldn’t see straight. Next thing I know I’m lyin’ there bleeding out with my arm turnin' to dust on the ground in front of me. I managed to slither away but when I tried to reattach my arm I couldn’t. It was like it wasn’t a part of me anymore. I passed out in an alley and woke up in a kind old ladies house two days later.

“After that I got scared. Nearly died countless times taking bullets I could a’ dodged because I was too afraid to use my sands again, scared I might lose something else. It was one night at a bar, I was drunk and rambling on, that I met this old man. I don’t even know his name. He told me; “Sounds to me like you’re just waitin’ to die. If you can do something, why don’t you do?” After that I realized I’d given up on myself, I decided I’d learn my sands all over again find my limits and what I was capable of. I started using them every day. I got better; I found my strengths and my weaknesses. I also became deadlier because of it.” McCree leans into Hanzo and wraps his arms around the man. “Look, I’m not saying you have to like it, but caging it’s only gonna’ make it worst, you already know that. You got to find your limits and learn um.” McCree pauses and looks down at Hanzo, a single tear runs down his cheek, he’s staring at the cement below. McCree huffs dismissively.

He stands up “Get up,” he looks down at Hanzo offering his hand.

Hanzo looks up at him, looking to his face then his hand, a confused look on his face.

“This kind a’ sorrow is enough to kill a man… an’ I ain’t gonna’ let that happen tonight.” McCree reasserts his hand. Hanzo slowly stands, placing his hand in McCree’s.

McCree then steps into his space; he holds their hands out to the side and wraps his other arm around Hanzo’s waist. He begins to pull Hanzo along, making small circles around the room. Soon a waltz forms from the slow movements.

Neither man says anything as they continue to make sweeping motions. A slow hypnotizing beat drifts in through the window from the nightclub below. At some point they slow, their breathing is thick between them.

Hanzo gradually lifts his head. McCree surges in to meet him, Lips tangling, its intense as each man tries to soak into the other, both men finally allowing themselves to have what they’ve both yearned for, for so long. Each man needing the intimacy far longer than they’ve even known one another. Their lives don’t leave room for pleasures like this.

McCree’s hands begin to explore Hanzo’s frame, lightly tracing over his waist and abs. Hanzo reaches up and pulls his hands down McCree’s back savoring the dense muscle underneath. They walk backwards and collapse onto the mattress. Hanzo crowds into the space between McCree’s legs. He slowly lifts McCree’s shirt and follows it with his lips, trailing soft kisses and licks all the way up until they meet in a soft kiss. McCree tugs at Hanzo’s jacket and it is soon gone along with his shirt. They barely break long enough for Hanzo to get it over his head. Their shoes come off somewhere along the way.

Hanzo sucks McCree’s earlobe and traces his teeth down McCree’s throat where he nips. Hanzo suckles one nipple in his mouth, drawing a deep moan out of the man below him. He fondles the other pebble nipple. McCree tangles his hands into his hair, pulling the tie loose. Hanzo grazes his teeth over the nipple as he switches.

After a bit, McCree shivers and sets up pushing Hanzo over to his back. Hanzo goes willingly. McCree crawls over him leaving bites up one arm, across his shoulders, neck, and chest then down the other arm. He squeezes Hanzo’s ass firmly. They kiss once more, tongues sliding deliciously. Hanzo tastes sweet. McCree tastes earthy. McCree reaches for Hanzo’s belt cautiously; Hanzo nods and breathes a silent ‘yes’. Both move to lick and nibble at the other's neck as McCree slides off Hanzo’s pants, underwear coming with them. Hanzo fumbles with McCree’s waistband. McCree chuckles and releases the ridiculous buckle for him, his pants and boxers slide off easily. Their thighs glide over each other as they slide closer. McCree grasps his hands and pins them above his head as they drown in the sensation of skin against warm skin

When they finally touch the friction draws a brisk inhale from both men. Hanzo fumbles for his bag and pulls out a small bottle of lube. McCree raises a brow, “Mighty prepared.”

The corner of Hanzo’s mouth tilt up, “A man has his needs.” He pops open the top and squeezes a bit onto his hand. He warms it a bit before he takes them both in hand, gliding his thumb over their heads. Their breathing hitches. “Han,” McCree slips his hands into his hair. Neither man is anywhere near small, McCree is just a bit longer than Hanzo, while Hanzo hangs thicker. McCree leans in close and bites into the muscles of Hanzo’s shoulder a deep, rumbling moan leaks through. Hanzo arches back and cries out in the mix of pain and pleasure. Hanzo sets a punishingly slow rhythm. Lips connect again in a hot embrace, as both men rut into Hanzo’s tight slick tunnel. Each pull sending heat up their spines.

Soon McCree breaks for air. He pulls back to look at Hanzo and briefly looks away. “Can I…?” McCree doesn’t finish because Hanzo takes his fingers and trails them over his puckered hole. McCree exhales and reaches for the lube with his other hand. Hanzo releases him and he crawls down to mouth at his thighs. He coats his fingers with lube and slides them over Hanzo’s entrance.

Hanzo’s sharply inhales from the chill but soon relaxes as McCree presses in the first thick digit. As McCree works him open, he breathes heavily. Each stroke delicious against his walls. McCree trails light nips and suckles over the skin, leaving marks over his thighs. He soon presses in a second finger and begins to scissor in him. McCree presses into the soft tuft of hair around Hanzo’s length and inhales. He trails his tongue over each ball rolling them one at a time. He curves up his fingers and circles that bundle of nerves over and over that leaves Hanzo a sweating, gasping mess.

“Let me hear you,” McCree whispers, he licks up from base to tip and suckles the head. He takes Hanzo in his mouth all the way down, only gagging once.  He works in a third digit and spreads experimentally. He pulls off and pants, “I can’t…can I...” he begs.

Hanzo leans up and grabs McCree’s hair pulling him up for an open mouth kiss. He grimaces at the loss of fullness. He nods vigorously and wraps his ankles around McCree’s thighs coaxing him closer.

McCree lines himself up with Hanzo’s slickened hole and presses in. Hanzo savors the stretch. It takes a few patient thrusts for McCree to sink fully into Hanzo.

McCree kisses him, “ _Tch_ ’ you feel so good, so hot, so tight around me.” He pulls out and back in just a bit; both men breathing heavily.

Hanzo tightens around him, “Get moving.” He smirks.

Without warning, McCree pulls all the way out to the tip and slams back into him, Hanzo claws into his back and curses. McCree looks more than pleased with himself.

McCree sets a fast and deep pace. Each thrust deeper than the last, Hanzo cants his hips up to meet McCree.

Both men quickly building to their end sooner than either would admit.

“I’m close,” Hanzo’s exhales, to that McCree takes a knee in each hand and bends him over almost in half and pounds into him. Each thrust strikes Hanzo’s prostate; it only takes a handful of strokes to send him careening over the edge streaking white over his chest and stomach.  As he cums, he constricts around McCree inside him and the man spills inside Hanzo. “Fuck, Hanzo.”

McCree pulls out and falls onto the mattress beside Hanzo his arm resting over Hanzo’s chest. Both bask in the post-coital high.

After some time, McCree grabs his shirt to wipe them both off and lays down into Hanzo’s arms.

As He slowly drifts off into a peaceful sleep he hears Hanzo whisper in his ear.

_“Thank you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The song that plays while they are dancing is Martin Garrix Ocean. And the song earlier is The Weeknd’s Call out my name, and Martin Garrix/David Guetta’s So far Away)  
> (Hanzo’s outfit from after his shower: https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQXCyj74kfv3gaoRQJK7JtAySlna_2WWIlldJMLntddXH4MFtFg   
>  https://gloimg.rowcdn.com/ROSE/pdm-product-pic/Clothing/2016/03/22/source-img/20160322103105_32428.jpg )  
> (McCree’s outfit: https://smhttp-ssl-33667.nexcesscdn.net/manual/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/loose-style-long-sleeve-denim-shirts-men-washed-vintage-men-s-casual-jean-shirts-summer-lightweight.jpg   
> http://www.kinnaird-guesthouse.co.uk/images/large/bblnet/ByH2F8uANfccccceeeee_LRG.jpg )


	5. Chapter Five

**Shifting Sands Chapter 5**

_(Important: A Sōzu shishi-odoshi is a Japanese garden ornament that fills with water and then empties making a tapping sound. It is translated as ‘deer scarer’. Hanzo and Genji’s Dragon spirits are named after Shinto gods respectively; Raijin the god of lightning, thunder, and storms. Fūjin the god of wind, and Ishikori-dome no mikoto the god of mirrors and metal working.)_

_The sound of shifting sand blankets the air as the wind caresses the Ume leaves. Cicadas sing out into the summer heat. The Sōzu Shishi-odoshi taps its stone. A young Hanzo soaks in the peace of the gardens._

_He walks in the_ _pebble_ _d_ _shadow_ _,_ _cast by the trees_ _,_ _and under the bridge to the archery field. He breathes in deep, the air is crisp. Shimada castles high walls keep the city toxins at bay. A sparrow perches on a branch nearby chirping happily. He nears the rack and takes a bow in hand. He straps the yazutsu quiver to his obi._

_There are three circular targets made of_ _[_ _spiraling_ _]_ _grass dented with heavy use. Hanzo takes his stance at the first. He pulls the string back, an iron-tipped arrow notched, inhaling with it. He exhales as it releases._

_It misses._

_Hanzo stares wide-eyed briefly. A nearly impossible to hear giggle echoes from above. Hanzo’s eyes narrow in a suspicious glare. He notches another arrow and takes aim then releases it as he did the other._

_It soars toward the target dead center, however, centimeters before it hits the arrow arches. It thuds into the edge of the target. A second giggle reaches his ear._

_Hanzo smirks, He positions yet another arrow. A stone-tipped arrow. As he releases he wills his breath to carry it above and over his head toward the sounding giggles._

_It pierces through the wood of the overhanging terrace, “Gah!” shuffling sounds and Genji then falls to the ground at Hanzo’s feet. He rubs his head; his ankle bleeds where the arrow nicked him._

_“If you have nothing better to do than make a fool of my aim, you could join me before sensei catches you sloughing off your duties…again.” Hanzo kneels and wraps his handkerchief around Genji’s ankle, knocking him on the nose as he stands._

_“Cheat,” Genji punches him in the shoulder playfully. “When did you get stone-tipped arrows?”_

_Hanzo turns and pulls back on the bow, releasing another arrow. It hits the center of the target._

_“I had them made after the last time you tampered in my training.” Hanzo looks accusingly at Genji._

_Genji smiles and walks over to the rack. He collects a waist bag of shuriken and synchs it on. He returns and stands next to Hanzo facing the second target. “First to 100 bullseyes wins, loser pays at Rikimaru’s”._

_Hanzo pulls back on the string, “I am never second best.”_

_***_

Hanzo opens his eyes, his dragons stirring him awake. Hanzo’s dream having made them restless with longing to see their sister. ‘Calm, I am anxious as well. We will see them in time.’

The morning sun streaks through the windows. The far cry of car horns sound from the streets below.  McCree lays sound asleep on his stomach beside him, one arm resting over Hanzo’s chest.  Hanzo rests his head back and watches the dust twirl in the air.

His life had been an exception. Being an elemental was both a blessing and a curse. Only one elemental is born for every one-hundred-thousand births.

It’s often elementals do not live to see adulthood, because with their rarity comes danger. No teachers or guidance exist to show them how to control or cope with their gifts. Most cause their own deaths or deaths of others by accident or misuse before the age of ten.

It was only thanks to the Shimada’s great influence and power as a yakuza clan that saved him and Genji of the worst of the elementals existence. Elementals are heavily sought after. It’s commonplace for them to be kidnapped and sold into slave trade through the black market to the highest bidder. The ones that manage to avoid this fate do not stay hidden long. Governments require all known elementals to register and serve in organized military regimes, so they may be monitored, ‘Tested on’. If they refuse they are subject to lifelong imprisonment ‘as a safety precaution for the public’. Some cultures worship them as the next step in humanities evolution; others shun them out of fear.

The existence of sibling elementals was unheard of until Genji’s birth. Genji’s talent for manipulating any metal was unique even within the world of elementals. But, Hanzo himself was seen as a principally unique existence. For he possessed two elements; those with two elements are a mere eight percent of all elementals born. On top of this, His lineage as a son born from the Shimada main family also bestowed him with ‘gifts’. Those of pure blood are born with an ancient spirit. These beings reside within their companions, sharing mind, body and soul. Even rarer were those born with multiple. Hanzo harbors two great storm dragons. Raijin no migite, a female spirit of thunder and lightning, and Fūjin no hidarite, a male spirit of wind, as a child Hanzo lovingly nicknamed them Rai and Fūn. The spirits having such a strong connection with Hanzo’s own elements only amplified his talents further. Hanzo resented himself. All his ‘gifts’ were just curses in sheep’s skin, but growing up he was pompous and cocksure, flowing into how he carried himself now, in his adult life.

 (Worst of all,) The clan saw these facts as entitlements; A right to take anything they desired. The elders saw Genji and himself as leverage rather than human beings. They desired the perfect heirs; ‘weapons’. They often pushed Hanzo so hard he risked injury, and on many occasions death, while mastering his powers, his lightning’s unpredictability making it especially dangerous.

His first kill was not an assassination, as is the tradition within his family. It was an accident; his martial arts sensei had pushed him to use lightning in his strikes. The result ended in a young Hanzo witnessing his forward palm strike decapitating the body in front of him.

On one occasion, the night after his mother’s assassination. His sorrow and anger had built so much in his attempts to suppress them that when a servant pushed him too far the condensed rage exploded from him. It burst from within him in waves causing the destruction of an entire wing of the castle. The fire engulfed most of the east wing killing many.

With all their focus on Hanzo, Genji was left with endless freedom, which bred a rebellious nature within him. When the time came for him to bear some responsibility, it ignited the fuse of their destruction.

The clan’s adamancy of having the brothers’ rule together is what brought upon their downfall, and Hanzo’s.

***

Hanzo moves McCree’s arm and sets up. He shakes his head to stir away his darkening thoughts. He looks down at McCree, _‘Against all odds, to think I would have met another with gifts such as mine, as well as an understanding of my strife.’_

“I was thinkin’ the same thing.” McCree turns his head to face Hanzo, squishing it into his folded pants pillow.

Hanzo straightens, had he said that out loud?

McCree rises up onto his elbows and looks out the window. “It’s a fine day. What say we find a nice spot and…practice?” McCree looks at Hanzo with an honest face and raised brow.

Hanzo looks forward, his lips press into a thin line. His knuckles turn white as he grips his makeshift clothing blanket.

McCree falters in his resolve, “Hanzo…I wanna’ help ya but ya gotta give me somethin’”.

“My mother once told me, before her untimely death; ‘Strength does not come from physical capability, it comes from an indomitable will’” Hanzo turns to McCree, “If you can teach me, Jesse, I am willing to listen.”

An ear to ear smile plasters itself on McCree’s face. He pops up and begins to dress. “Mighty fine! Let’s get some grub first though, can’t work on an empty stomach.”

Hanzo stands and begins to dress. McCree pauses after zipping his pants to watch.

Hanzo raises his brow questioningly. He then makes a show of slipping on his tank and braiding his hair, down and over his right shoulder.

McCree makes a low whistle.

They pack up and emerge onto the streets.

The decrepit district of New York they chose to hold up in was indeed dirty and worn; trash litters the sidewalks, streets, and gutters.  The homeless huddle en-masse in the dark alleys.  But even places such as these possess true gems if one looks hard enough.

They find a small shop nestled between two twelve-story apartment buildings. The two-story red brick building sticks out, like a swan amongst a flock of geese, in the concrete jungle. Its burgundy overhang guards the black foldable tables and chairs resting under it. A hand-painted “Donovan’s Café and Baked goods” is visible on the gold trimmed viewing window.

The bronze bell above the door jangles to announce their entrance. A black-haired man with a burn scar across his face, dressed in all white and covered in flour comes out from the back. “What can I get ya’?” His Italian accent is thick.

McCree bends to look into the wonderland behind glass.

Hanzo steps up and orders a large apricot jelly-filled sweet bun, its sprinkled sugar coating sparkles in the light. He requests for green tea but they do not have it. “Any tea is fine,” the man then hands him a lidded paper cup of hot black tea. McCree then points to the glass and requests a sausage and cheese empanada and a black coffee.

They walk the streets aimlessly as they eat, enjoying the city’s haze of noise. After they finish they continue to walk shoulder to shoulder.  A comfortable silence rests between them.

A couple hours pass this way and soon they realize they must move on.

“Where would be a good place to hide something as bright and flashy as a firework show in July?” McCree turns and asks as they walk along a large traffic crossing.

“In the city, perhaps an abandoned building. Parks are too populated; we would be caught and reported before we even began.”

McCree considers it for a bit, then pulls out his communicator and brings up a map of the district. “There looks to be a building six blocks north o’ here. Old, concrete, and fenced.” He winks, “Let’s go.”

They walk the distance to the structure and scan the perimeter for any holes in the fence. When they find none, Hanzo scales the chain link. Unable to achieve such a feat himself, McCree melts into a tan mass of sands and slithers through the openings. The sands lift and wrap like a ribbon up and around Hanzo, lightly tickling him before they blow off into the damp dark of the buildings shadows. Hanzo laughs to himself.

Hanzo walks under the building into the forest of concrete pillars. He splashes through an oil slick puddle as he journeys further in.

It has been well over a decade since the last time he played so carefree like this. His skin tingles; He feels almost light. His fear in using his lightning is deadened in his chest as he stalks the dark column shadows, hunting for any sign of McCree - no, Jesse. Though he has not known the man for long, their mutually shared understanding and easy chemistry have drawn Hanzo in like a moth to the flame. He would dare say Jesse could be his…..his… Hanzo halts his train of thought, sensing movement just ahead of him.

Suddenly, the sand whips out from behind a pillar, aimed for his head. Hanzo bends back to dodge and retaliate with a palm strike, extending its reach with a gust of wind. The burst splits the sand in two; the left mass drops to the floor and slithers to his feet. He leaps vertically, spiraling air underfoot to raise himself higher. The right mass of sand swings like a hammer and collides with his leg shattering his balance and sending him back toward the earth. Hanzo extends all his limbs and pushes the air out to cushion his fall. He recovers immediately, sliding horizontally with the ground to dodge the sands downswing. The sand comes back together. Hanzo creates a blanket of air. He casts it to the ground trapping the sands under its immense swirling pressure. The tiny grains struggle futilely against it 'till they collapse to the ground scattering; admitting defeat.

Hanzo remains on guard until the sands begin to move, they pull upward, soon solidifying into a familiar shape.

“That would’ve really hurt if I could’ve felt it.” McCree rubs at his head.

“Can you not feel in that state?” Hanzo questions, briefly worried he might have injured the man.

“It’s not that I _can’t_ , it's more that my senses are numbed, and the only thing that can injure me when I’m like that is hot stuff or cold stuff. Like, really hot or really cold. Extreme temperatures.”

McCree pulls the collar of his shirt back and shows the nearly healed burn, “It’s why your lightning singed me up.”

Hanzo deadens, “I did not intend to harm you.”

McCree waves it off, “I know, but that’s why we’re here.” McCree walks a few yards away. “Now, I don’t know how it works for you, but when I use my sands it’s not that I’m giving them orders. I am just giving them a direction to flow. I think that might work for you.”

Hanzo tilts his head confused, “I do not understand.”

McCree purses his lip considering, He then smiles and holds out his arms. “Shoot me.”

Hanzo stares at the man briefly.

McCree says it again, “’said shoot me.”

Hanzo pulls Storm bow from his bag and notches an arrow. He draws back.

McCree cocks his brow with a challenging look.

Hanzo then releases, the arrow flies, it lodges in McCree’s sandy shoulder. Soon the arrow drips from the sand and clatters to the ground, McCree solidifies again. He bends down and picks up the arrow.

He twirls it in his hand; he pulls out Peacekeeper and twirls her in the other. “Just like you aim your arrows, I aim my sands. They’re heavy and fightin’ against em’ don’t get ya nowhere, they will just fall wherever is heaviest no matter what I want.” He walks back to Hanzo and returns the arrow. “I think your lightning is the same. You try too hard to control it, rather than directin’ it and lettin’ it go.”

McCree stands next to Hanzo and holds up Peacekeeper, he aims at a pillar twenty yards away.

Hanzo watches in slow motion, McCree does not pull the trigger; the gun does not click or spark. However, as the gun recoils, bullet-shaped sand drips from McCree’s cheek just below his right eye and barrels forward. It hits the concrete with a loud crack, leaving a dent.

The sand melts and returns to McCree shortly after. “Use your bow,” Hanzo moves for another arrow but, McCree stops him. “Use lightning.”

Hanzo raises Storm bow, he tries to will an arrow into the slot like he does his wind, but it cracks and fizzles out. He grunts angrily.

“Don’t think about it,” McCree lifts Peacekeeper once more, “Just aim, focus, see it in your mind, and fire.”

Hanzo looks at McCree, then to the pillar. He raises Storm bow pulling back on the string inhaling, he remembers the wind through the trees, the cicada’s choir. Genji’s shuriken as they thud into the target beside him. The _Sōzu Shishi-odoshi_ taps, it taps again….

With the rhythm Hanzo releases his breath, the string snaps forward, a bolt of light rips into existence millimeters out from the bow.

It moves faster than either can follow, all they see is the now cracked and crumbling pillar, a black burn mark the size of a pinpoint dead center.

McCree slaps him on the shoulder and shakes him, a wide grin on his face. The corner of Hanzo’s lips upturns slightly.

McCree turns to him, “Think you could do something like this?” McCree bit by bit dissolves and reforms a couple feet away.

Hanzo furrows his brow. He closes his eyes and aims for the space adjacent to McCree.

Instantly he dissolves and flashes toward McCree in an erratic strip of light. McCree just barely dissolves out of the way to keep from getting hit. Hanzo reappears behind him, stumbling for balance.

“Hey, ya ain’t got to think on it that hard, just see where you wanna’ be and let go.”

Hanzo takes a second to calm himself. He then looks to McCree’s hand, ‘ _where I want to be hmm_ ,’ he feels it in his palm. He inhales, then he dissolves again into a bolt, this time it was fluid - if you could call lightning that. It zips toward McCree.

He braces, but then McCree feels warmth next to him. Hanzo blips into the space beside him, holding his hand. A bright white smile shining on Hanzo’s face. “I…I’ve not felt freedom such as this in a very long time. It feels…good.”

Hanzo then jumps again and again around the field of concrete pillars. Light flashing faster than McCree can follow.

As the time passes, they both delve into more serious ways of use for Hanzo’s newfound abilities. Hanzo develops a lightning arrow that once it strikes, it scatters into many bolts and fills up an entire area.

McCree fires harder compacted bullets and soon they realize with help from Hanzo’s wind they can penetrate solid rock and steel.

“wanna’ try heatin’ the bullets?”

“Is that safe, are the bullets not part of you?” Hanzo inquires.

“I can use bits o’ my clothes for the test run or,” he bends over and picks up a piece of cement turning it into sand. “I can use this.” He jostles and comes to stand in front of Hanzo, back to him. “Imma’ use Deadeye, might tucker me out a bit but we got time.” McCree poses with Peacekeeper in her holster.

“Draw!” he whips up firing off six rapid molten magma shots, all glowing red hot. Hanzo laces small sparks of lightning around each, one by one they turn white with heat.

Each bullet hits and shatters into crystalline specks of dust against the far wall. The glass sand rains down over them like a gentle snow sparkling and bending the sunlight. Both men pause in awe.

McCree looks to Hanzo, some of the dust has settled on his silken black hair and regal cheekbones. Hanzo’s expression of complete peace in that moment makes McCree’s heart flutter. He feels a sense of peace rise in his chest that has long been gone; he hopes that their time together continues. He swallows thickly, willing the tightness of his pants to dissipate. In his internal floundering, he doesn't see Hanzo wrap his hand behind his neck and pull him into a soft kiss. Though stunned for a brief second he soon melts into it, deepening it. Hanzo then pulls back, his eyes filled with uncertainty. Fear bubbles in McCree’s gut.

“What is this to you?” Hanzo says in a cold withdrawn whisper between their lips.

McCree breathes with relief, he’d fear rejection. Hanzo was quickly becoming something important to him. Perhaps faster than what was considered normal, but neither of them were normal men.

McCree steps back. He looks Hanzo in the eye and stands with confidence. “I ain’t gonna lie to ya, didn’t see you in the brightest light when the only thing I knew about you was your brother's one-sided monologue.” He turns to face the wall as the last of the glass dust settles. “But, I know now I’d like to get to know ya’.” He looks down and then turns to rest both hands on Hanzo’s shoulders, “ Hanzo, Darlin’ I feel freer and more connected with you than I have with anyone in all my years of walkin’ on this fucked up planet. I only hope you feel the same.” He then steps back, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

Hanzo considers his words and then finds his feelings are not far off. His dragons could not agree more. “Yes, I feel that this would be worth pursuing.”

 _‘May we meet the one you have deemed worth, master?’, ‘Yes, it has been far too long since you last let your heart feel the caress of another._ ’ _Rai_ and _Fūn_ speak up from within him. Hanzo looks to McCree; the man has a dumb grin on his face yet again. ‘ _I suppose it would be alright.’_

His arm glows an ethereal blue, the secondary dragon tattoo on his right leg glows as well. Soon two cat-sized spectral dragons rest on Hanzo’s shoulders.

“He..hey! You got two? Genji showed me Ishiko-chan once. That lil’ green devil has a mean bite.” McCree reaches out his hand to Rai.

Each serpent looks to Hanzo and with a nod of Hanzo’s head both Dragons leap and spiral around the cowboy knocking him to the ground. The man is reduced to a bumbling ball of laughter as the dragon’s purr and tickle him.

Genji’s dragon, _Ishikori-dome no Ishi_ ; a dragon spirit of metal and reflection, had once shown him with such affection. Hanzo calls his dragons back, and they settle once more onto his shoulders. “These are _Raijin no migite_ and _Fūjin no hidarite_ my spirit companions. Rai, Fūn, This is Jesse McCree.

McCree tips his hat, “s’ a pleasure.”

Both dragons bow and then return to Hanzo’s skin. They then both walk to the wall to determine the aftermath of their earlier combined experiment.

There is no visible damage to the impact area. They deem it useless aside from its possible use as a distraction or as McCree adds; a theatrical party move.

***grumble***

McCree’s stomach growls, “heh, guess we did skip lunch,” He looks out toward the street, it is nearing sunset. “Hmm, we should head out. Get food and find a place to huddle down, perhaps one with an actual bed this time. Although, I can’t guarantee your back won’t hurt later.”

“Is that your idea of seduction? Implying you’ll make a man’s back ache without the assistance of a bad mattress?” Hanzo fixes him with a mischievous glare.

McCree laughs,” I mean, don’t fix what ain’t broken, right?” McCree winks at him.

They both turn and begin to walk out of the building.

Hanzo frowns; he looks around at the decimated columns and concrete as they pass.  He feels a sense of longing well up in his chest, not yet ready for their time here to end. The progress he has made with his lightning here in a single day has been more than he has accomplished in his lifetime and it is purely thanks to the man at his side. He is so ready to be rid of this weakness, but he will not let his eagerness cloud his judgement. His…and Jesse’s safety is of the highest priority.  Being out in the dark slums of the city at night is a risk he will not take.

The turmoil under his skin must have been visible, because the next thing he knows, he is wrapped warmly in McCree’s large arms in a crushing hug. McCree lays a soft kiss on the top of his head. It's quiet for a moment.

McCree then raises Hanzo’s chin with his natural warm hand. “Thank you for letting me in. I know with death constantly hanging over our heads, men like us don’t let their guard down easy.” A single tear breaks from McCree’s eye. “It means a lot.” Hanzo reaches up and wipes it away.

***

They pull out Hanzo’s holo-tablet and quickly search up the closest motel. Thankfully, it isn’t one of those that charge by the hour. Before they turn in for the night they scour the grotto for a suitable eating establishment. Around the corner from the bakery they had frequented earlier that morning sat a small family owned Italian restaurant. The server seats them in an olive-green booth in the back corner of the restaurant. The table has a white lace frilled tablecloth with a plexiglass cover over it; a single white jar candle decorates the shiny surface.

They order their waters and wait for the server to return. A few minutes later the server brings them their drinks and takes their orders. Hanzo chooses white wine and spinach pasta, while McCree gets two orders of crabmeat cannelloni and fried ravioli from the appetizer menu.

McCree rests his elbow on the table and settles his face in his palm. “Today was nice.”

Hanzo nods, “Yes, however, we have business to attend to.”

McCree purses his lips, “Yeah… well, I’ll step out and call up Charlie. Let um’ know we’re comin’” McCree stands and walks to the front entrance. Hanzo watches him as he goes.

Outside, McCree takes out a cigarillo and lights it. He draws at it, exhaling the smoke out exhaustedly.

“Always moving but never gets anywhere.” McCree huffs to himself, “least’ I got someone to share it with.”

McCree has always been moving, a bastard child of a rape victim, born to a mother high on opioids. His mother never really showed him any affection. Probably due to the memories he dredged up every time she looked at him. She only did the bare minimum, so he wouldn’t starve. He thinks she did it out of guilt. “ _The child didn’t ask to be born_.” When he was four, his ‘mother’ hung herself from the rafters of their home. Two days later, Old lady Shawl found the body, and little Jesse just playing in the hot house all alone.

From then on Gran’ma Shawl raised him. She was merciless, made him tough.

 _“The world ain’t a kind place ya’ hear me? Ain’t nobody gonna’ care about a drowned rat like you. So you got to take care a’ yourself.”_ She used to say that to him a lot, He likes to think it was her way of sayin’ she loved him.

At five, he got his sands. He started using um’ to float cookies to his room under Gran’ma Shawls nose. When she found out, they moved out to the desert. “ _Being out in the desert has its advantages. No one cares, and no one comes lookin’_ ”. He remembered that, for when it came time to pick a place to call home.

When he was nine, he nearly drowned in a lake. He hadn’t quite gained an understandin’ on how his sands worked. Another kid had thrown a rock at his head, and he’d turned to sand to avoid the blow. The lake water quickly soaked him, causing his sandy mass to sink to the bottom. After he solidified he had no air and the water felt like bricks on his lungs. He nearly blacked out before he could make it to the surface. It left him with a deathly fear of water.

At age eleven, Gran’ma Shawls died to lung cancer. One too many cigarettes. He figured out quick how to survive on his own. He started stealing and getting by anyway he could. His sands made it easier.

He hated it though. He had a kind heart and taken’ from people who were only a bit better off than himself hurt him deeper than anything physical had. Luckily, the elderly people would often take him in for a night. He’d do chores or errands for them and they’d feed him for a while, give him a place to stay. It made him feel like he was paying it back in a way.

At thirteen he’d had enough of leeching. He was headstrong and stubborn. Deadlock came along and picked him up. They gave him his first gun at fourteen. He was a natural good shot and only got better. He never missed a shot. He killed his first man at fifteen. His buddy had got caught, he raised his revolver and next thing he knew three bodies all hit the floor.

After that, with his sands, aim, and his abundance of natural wits, he rose through the ranks pretty fast. In the height of their day, he was Deadlock's third in command.

At eighteen, deadlock got hit hard. They’d just successfully pulled off a heist on a global bank in California, the deadlock name was a subject worldwide, and they paid the price for it.

Overwatch came for em’, or rather, Blackwatch did. No mercy was shown. Right after the single exchange of “surrender and no one gets killed” and “fuck off” it was a hellfire of bullets. McCree was tangled up in the battle and was forced to hole up in the back of a warehouse; once the dust settled only three agents remained. Deadlock was dead.

McCree takes another draw and exhales it, he laughs to himself. The memory of what happen next bringing a smile to his face.

He’d slithered over behind the last agent, while the other two left the warehouse. He came up quick and got the tall dark-skinned man in a choke hold but, before he could fire off a killing shot the man snapped his head back, breaking McCree’s nose and sending him sprawling. He realized the shotgun the man wielded had raised for a killing shot and turned to sand just in time to avoid the hail of pellets. His sandy figure raised his gun and levelled it at the man's face. The pellets dripped out of him as he solidified with a cocksure grin on his face. Surprisingly, the other man just smiled.

Suddenly, the butt of the shotgun came down hard on McCree’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him to the ground. The man then overturned a canister of oil that just so happened to be nearby, the sludge soaked McCree.

The man then pulled out a lighter, the flame waved in the draft of the warehouse. The shotgun returned to his face. McCree knew he was screwed. If he turned to sand he’d be slowed by the oil, he’d burn to death before he’d get ten feet away. He’d been outplayed.

The man then smirks and walks away as the other agents return. “Bring him in,” is all the agent says before disappearing. McCree is escorted to a shower and then an air-conditioned carrier cell.

Later, that same agent comes back. “Gabriel Reyes,” He shakes McCree’s hand. “And you are?”

McCree just levels an angry glare at him.

“Alright look, I like ya’, you’re hard, smart, and talented. Not to mention those sands. I’m a guy with just enough power to get what I want, and I want you. So, I’ll give you a choice. You come work for me and make something of yourself, or you get to visit the lovely maximum security elemental prison just down the road.”

McCree wasn’t an idiot; he saw the opportunity and took it and it was the best choice he has ever made.

His years in Overwatch had been the best years of his life. He felt a sense of purpose that he hadn’t had in all his years in deadlock. Did well for his kind heart too. His relationship with Reyes was the closest thing he’d ever had to a father. Even if they didn’t see eye to eye near the end. Ana was the mother he always wished for. Together they forged him into the man he was to this day. Strong, smart, and willing to do right no matter the cost. On his twentieth birthday, Ana gave him Peacekeeper. Everything about the weapon was tailored to him, the weight, the design, the choice in metal, and even its ammunition. It was and still is his most prized possession.

His relationship with Genji was probably the closest thing he’s ever had to a friend. Heck, Genji probably still is the only actual friend he’s got. No one else really wanted anything to do with the ex-yakuza murderous cyborg or the ‘got in free’ ex-criminal. So, they ended up together. They trained together, got out their frustrations. It was a quiet understanding, and they liked the company.

Overwatch was his family.

Once on a mission in the Philippines, they were forced to escape an exploding facility through the jungle. Their carrier was hidden just offshore on an island and they needed to swim for it. McCree wouldn’t’ do it. His fear blinded him to the danger and that night he nearly got him and four other agents killed including Reyes.

So, following that near miss, Reyes required him to attend regular swimming lessons, taught by Reyes himself. It helped after he got over the initial stubborn streak, he learned to swim and do everything he HAD to. But, he never got over having his head go under. Anytime he went completely under he’d black out due to his panic. He was grateful to Reyes nonetheless.

Near the end, when Overwatch was a shadow of its former self. He’d just had enough. Gabe wasn’t the same. Ana was dead, and Genji had already left. So, twelve months before the Swiss base explosion he left. He went out on his own. For the past seven years, he’s doled out justice where he sees fit.

It’s thanks to that he has as many ‘friends’ as he does now. Charlie was a good guy, a good father; he just got absorbed in his work. Lil’ Tabby was just playing near the sea cliffs near the take-off strip and she’d slipped. McCree just so happened to be camping on the nearby beach and saw the little girl fall. He’d caught her before she struck the sharp rocks, broke his leg doing it. After that, Charlie paid for the medical expenses and promised to repay him. Guess it was time he collected.

McCree crushes the cigarillo stub under his heel and pulls out his communicator. He pulls up Charlie’s number and hit the dial button.

“Hello, Charles speaking.”

“Howdy”.

“McCree? O’ my god, you son of a gun. What’s the occasion?” the man is jolly on the other end.

“Well, I figured it’s about time I call in that favor. Ya’ see me and a buddy could use some help getting across the Atlantic.”

Charles laughs heartily, “Well, alright! Come on down here then. I think I got a carrier due to leave for Numbani in a day.”

“Thank ya’ sir, we will see you then.”

“Take Care.”

McCree hangs up and pockets the device. He then walks back in and returns to the table. Their food having already arrived.

Hanzo looks up from his pasta at McCree as he sits.

“Charlie says he has a carrier flying out to Numbani tomorrow. We’ll want to get there by then.” McCree picks up his fork in one hand scooping up a whole cannelloni and a fried ravioli in the other.

Hanzo’s face sours, but it melts away returning to his neutral glare before he takes another bit. “Very well.”

McCree disregards it; He dives for another ravioli downing it in one big bite.

After they leisurely finish their meal they sit and share a bottle of wine at Hanzo’s request. The vintage 1995 Grenache is of a surprisingly high quality for a slum restaurant. Hanzo merely raises a glass to the owner and smiles. The owner nods back; an all too smug smile on his face. McCree wonders just what Hanzo did while he was out smoking.

They see themselves out as the doors close for the night. It is relatively late, as they walk back to their lodging. Hanzo leans just a bit too hard into McCree to be considered sober. ‘ _You’d think a man who constantly carries a flask with him would be able to handle his alcohol a bit better_ ’; McCree finds it endearing. He has to help Hanzo in through the door.

Their room is simple; the walls are a faded dark blue with yellowing white trim at the top. There is a row of three windows on the far wall covered by brown blinds. A single full size bed sits against the right wall. There is a single side table with an old electric lamp on the far side of the bed. The on-suit bathroom is right inside to the right of the entryway. McCree locks and deadbolts the door.

Both men go about dressing themselves for bed. McCree chooses a pair of grey sweats, while Hanzo slips on a pink tank and his black briefs.

Hanzo lies down first, gliding under the thin sheet and blanket. He lies on his left side cradling his head in his hands, knees bent. McCree lifts up the edge of the blankets and jostles in behind him becoming the big spoon. “This alright?” he asks.

“It is fine,” ‘ _more than fine’_. Hanzo melts into the other man as he settles. McCree pulls Hanzo in closer with the arm he wraps around his waist.

The room is dark, only the silver strips of light poking through the windows. The city outside blazes on in its night chorus.  They both listen to each other’s heart beat slow and rhythmic. Soon both men slowly fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading <3  
> This is my first ever fic and i'd be happy to have any comments or tip you all might have for me!~ See you next chapter :D
> 
> Also, The dragons names mean as follows;  
> Raijin no migite = Right hand of Raijin  
> Fujin no hidarite = Left hand of Fujin  
> Ishikori-dome no Ishi = Will of the mirror  
> (i apologize if any of these are wrong, my japanese is very rusty)


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter begins with an explicit sexual scene. Skip to the first *** if that bothers you.

**Shifting Sands chapter 6**

The Sun pours in through the blinds as it breaks the horizon. The room is lit in lines of golden rays and steel blue shadows. McCree's eyes flutter open. He takes a moment to wake fully, surveying the room.

In his arms rests Hanzo, breathing softly. It's pleasantly warm between them wrapped together in the covers; spooning close. McCree nuzzles into Hanzo's hair and places a soft kiss on the back of his neck. He sighs.  _ ‘If only.' _ He breathes, pulling in the scent from the man in his arms; a mixture of earthy spice from his shampoo and something other; ozone perhaps. He can't fully place it, but it's a smell that's purely Hanzo and McCree loves it. He runs his hands down the toned muscle of Hanzo's abs where his hand has been resting. His growing arousal twitches in his sweats.

In all this Hanzo has not stirred; the alcohol from the night before having placed him in a heavy sleep. He pushes up flush to Hanzo's ass and rubs his aching shaft against the firm cheeks. He touches Hanzo gently sliding his hands up to the plump pecs, thumbing the nipple there then goes down and following  Hanzo’s happy trail towards the slumbering males cock . McCree lightly sweeps over it, eyeing Hanzo. There's a slight eyebrow twitch but he continues to slumber. 

McCree pulses with a fresh wave of lust as he remembers the flushed meaty girth Hanzo possess. ‘ _ Fuck’ _ , it would fill him so perfectly. He licks his lips. He nearly moans at the thought of mounting Hanzo and sinking down onto his girth. Taking it all, the delicious feel as it would stroke his inner walls with every downwards thrust.

He reaches down and touches his own pre-cum slicked head and keens. He spreads the pre and strokes just a few times for good measure then stops.  He's already so sensitive. That won't do. He travels further down past his balls rubbing his taint as he nears his clenched hole. He presses in just a bit testing it.

“ _ Tch' _ ', He reluctantly gets up and procures the bottle of lube from Hanzo's bag. When he returns he is delighted to find Hanzo has sleepily turned to rest on his back, both arms resting above his head.

_ ‘Bingo' _ , McCree smiles lecherously. He slips off his sweats and perches on the end of the bed. He delicately spreads Hanzo's legs and softly settles between them. Balancing on his knees he poses proudly. He glides his hands over his body. His callused hands trace gently over the soft skin of his pecs, up his neck, over his abs, and hips. He ignores his throbbing cock for now. He continues this till he's maddened with want.

He squeezes out a little lube onto his hand and reaches back, circling his entrance. He teases himself as he leans down and pulls the blankets off Hanzo's lower half. He tediously tugs Hanzo's briefs down and off, then pushes his pink T-shirt up over his pecs.

McCree lightly rakes his free hand down Hanzo's body, to his thick patch of hair. He returns to himself and pushes one thick digit in keening, as he sinks his face down. He breathes in Hanzo's musk greedily. He licks and nips up one thigh and down the other as he works himself slow. Stroking his walls and opening himself, his cock dripping pre onto the blankets below.

Finally, after a length of time that  felt like longer than it was, McCree works in a third digit, scissoring and feeling the stretch. He bites his lips to keep from moaning. It has been so long since he last took anything, he's starving for it.  ‘ _ Need to keep my mouth busy' _ , He looks down to Hanzo's half hard member. He mouths at the base of it, watching for Hanzo's reaction; his fingers twitch but he does not rouse. McCree grows bolder. 

He lazily trails up and circles the head with his tongue.  Licking at the bead of precum that rests there and dips his tongue into the slit . Relishing the little twitches and hitches of breath he causes Hanzo to release. He takes the head into his mouth and hums, even with Hanzo still non-cognitive his cock flushes and is soon fully erect with McCree's touch. He then slips his mouth down over the throbbing cock, it rests hot and heavy on his tongue.

He strokes his walls deliciously as he bobs his head, a wave of red-hot lust crashes over him. He's drooling with need. Finally, he sinks down taking the whole of Hanzo's thick girth into his mouth. He opens his throat and swallows around the intrusion. He then hallows his cheeks and sucks as he pulls up. Hanzo grunts and his brows furrow, one thigh twitches. McCree sinks down again and again, pumping his fingers in tandem with his menstruations getting lost in the hot building pleasure.

A hand comes up and tangles into McCree's hair pulling the strands tight. He barely slows as he looks up at Hanzo's hazy half tortured expression. McCree sinks down fully and swallows around the mass in his throat. Hanzo throws his head back and lets out a deep grueling moan and begins to breathe heavily.

McCree revels in being able to bring Hanzo such ecstasy. He lets off the hot length with an audible pop as Hanzo pulls him up. When they come face to face McCree just smiles big and wide, spit-slicked on his lips and beard. Hanzo looks at him with a haughty glare and then pulls him into a kiss. It's heated and intense. Their tongues are slick and wanting as they cross and explore.

Hanzo palms McCree's ass and dips down to kiss along his jaw and shoulders leaving marks. He growls possessively, "starting without me I see," he continues to mark and nip up McCree's neck and chest. Suddenly, He bucks upward briskly rubbing his hardened member over the other's length; eliciting a whimper from the man above him. 

Hanzo's hands slide along McCree's sweat slickened body, one finds purchase on his hip, the other runs up and buries into his brown locks. "You've awoken the beast," Hanzo pulls McCree's head forcibly to one side, he leans in and growls, "And he is starving,  頂きます ." 

It's the only warning McCree gets before Hanzo sinks his teeth into the muscular flesh of his shoulder, a burning wave of desire wracks through him. McCree grinds down wantonly as airy gasps fall from his lips; Hanzo arches up to meet him.

Hanzo pulls back; satisfied with the mark he’s left. There’s a bit of blood on his upper lip. McCree surges in and captures his lips in a desperate kiss, the taste of iron on his tongue, "Sweetness," another kiss, "Honey, Darlin'" another. "Sugar, God, I need you in me, _NOW_."

"Take it then." Hanzo appraises him with a lewd drunken glare.

McCree eases his fingers out of his needy hole and rubs Hanzo's girth with the excess slick; wrenching a choked moan out of the man. Hanzo involuntarily thrusts up into the warm tunnel of McCree's callused hand; it's slick and only leaves him wanting more. Hanzo reaches over for the discarded lube and uses a liberal amount to slick up his cock.

McCree positions himself over the other man's hips raising his arms and posing with one arm behind his neck, gyrating his hips. McCree looks Hanzo in the eye. The absolute malicious leer he is giving him does things to McCree he can't remember ever feeling before; the haughty way Hanzo egg's him on makes him fall apart; but the stubborn part of him only wants to delay the inevitable; no matter how agonizing for both parties.

He brings down his hands and places them on Hanzo's chest to steady himself. Hanzo positions his cock; brushing it over McCree's ready entrance. McCree chides him, and then slowly the head pushes in as he lowers himself. Hanzo's head tilts back closing his eyes, ‘ _ It's so hot' _ .

McCree sinks down just a bit more taking in another few inches, even with his thorough prep the stretch still burns with Hanzo's girth. He breathes exasperatedly; ‘ _ and there's still more to go' _ his tongue lolls out as he sinks just a bit more.

"Jesse," Hanzo lets out a strangled cry. Sweat beading his forehead. He's resolved to let Jesse settle, but the feeling is so hot, so intense, his ass is squeezing him so right, it's almost too much not to move.

His ass finally meets Hanzo's hips and they both shiver in the feeling. McCree is devastated by the feeling of being completely filled with Hanzo's gifted shaft; he hasn't even begun thrusting; his neglected cock twitches at the thought, lying heady and desperate between them. A pool of pre visible on Hanzo’s chiseled abs.

Hanzo brings his head up to look at Jesse. The man looks out-of-it, drooling with lust. His possessive instincts take hold; he experimentally cants his hips up. The little groan he gets from the other man is like music to his ears. He needs this man to call his name. He wants his throat hoarse from screaming it. "Jesse…  **_MOVE,_ ** Ride me Darling. Engorge yourself on my cock so I can hear just how broken you are by me."

McCree comes to; with Hanzo's coaxing he lifts himself just a bit then settles down, both men groan. He pulls up and sinks and again and again beginning a grueling pace. Each pull out of McCree leave them wanting and every hard thrust in pull out broken cries. As the pressure builds moans  escape him with little slips of Hanzo’s name and bits of Spanish. Hanzo's cock strokes his walls so good each thrust from this angle just shy of hitting where he needs it to.

Hanzo comes up and takes McCree's lips into a sloppy open mouth kiss. Both men devour eagerly the sounds that escape with heated breathe. Hanzo begins to cant his hips up meeting McCree's downward thrusts. McCree mewls. Hanzo then trails his teeth down and over McCree's soft tone pecs and takes one pebble nipple in his mouth; he sucks and thrusts up with a quick almost violent force.

" _ HANZO," _ McCree convulses, each of Hanzo's punishing thrust hit McCree's sweet bundle of nerves. He then wraps his arms around the other man and flips them, with McCree's back to the bed Hanzo remains deep inside him. He starts to pound into him, thrusting with a feral edge. He takes McCree's weeping member in hand and strokes,  _ "Hanzo.." _ McCree repeats with a slurred keen.

Hanzo continues his punishing thrusts feeling his climax grow closer; the sweat and blush visible over McCree's face, neck, and chest tells him the other man is barreling toward his end. He leans in and bites his cheek, then kisses him harshly, after, he trails down his neck biting along the way, " _ Mine _ ," he licks the bite mark he inflicted prior, " **_MINE"_ ** with an all too animalistic growl.

McCree hears Hanzo's guttural admission and his vision goes blank. McCree's moans turn to yells. A mixture of garbled inarticulate pleasure and Hanzo's name fill the room as he careens over the edge in ecstasy. He arches his back; sending white ropes over his chest. He feels himself tighten down on the thick cock inside him. 

Hanzo thrust thrice more before sheathing himself completely inside McCree, moaning deep and breathy, emptying himself in the other man's willing body.

They take a moment to breathe and come down just a bit, Hanzo then pulls out of McCree and cuddles into his side as they both continue to calm. Soon McCree begins to twirl fingers through his long hair. Eventually, both men fall into a half-lulled state.

***

Hours later when they both finally come-to from the high of their shared climax,  the sun is just over the horizon. Hanzo stands and walks to the bathroom still in the buff, McCree watches as he walks with a swing in his step. He raises a brow and feels a twinge of something….not unlike love bloom in his chest, ‘ _ ain't that a purdy sight. _ ' McCree stands and slides on his sweats then joins the other man in the bathroom.

McCree takes a warm towel and cleans himself off, then washes the other man as he tends to his hair. whistling as he works.

"We must determine our route to Maine." Hanzo pipes out after he finishes brushing his teeth. He looks at McCree.

McCree hands him the black comb and studies his scruff in the mirror. "Well, we ain't got a car, so train or boat might have ta' do."

"Boat, I would like to avoid a repeat of our last train ride."

"A'righty then," McCree quirks, "Let's head down to the harbor an' see what we can find."

Hanzo snuffs and nods. They both leave the bathroom and begin packing up. McCree strips the sheets and places them in the hamper, then makes up the bed as best he can. Hanzo merely looks at him with a smug expression. McCree shrugs.

They return the key to the desk and exit onto the streets.

Hanzo suggests they grab coffee before continuing onto business. They find a small New England style coffee shop just a thirty minutes' walk north. The outside is painted completely black, except for its emerald green door, a gold bell over it, and gold lettering along the top reading "Abbots' Black desire". Black wrought iron chairs and matching tables litter the area right outside. McCree denotes that it reminds him of the shops of Diagon Alley. Hanzo responds with a confused frown.

"Oh come on! You never heard of Harry Potter?" Hanzo just rolls his eyes and open the door to the shop. McCree smiles fondly, the sight is so close to his memory.

He reflects briefly, back in Blackwatch he'd gone to meet Genji after his scheduled spar. They'd planned on relaxing and catching a movie in the common lounge. When he'd gotten there, a girl with an aura brighter than sunshine stood beside Genji. He'd never seen her before so she must have been new.

"Golly," she wiped sweat from her brow. "If I hadn't blinked that last strike I'd have lost an arm! You're good Genji!" she slaps a reserved Genji on the back and smiles giddily. Genji just shrugs it off.

McCree steps up and clears his throat. "Genj, bout time to head out." He motions with his thumb. Genji nods and walks toward the door. The girl, saddened as being so readily dismissed, all but hits the floor when she slumps. McCree looks between the door and her.

"Name's McCree, but call me Jesse." He offers his hand.

The girl glows with a smile brighter than star light; he swore it nearly split her face in two.

"Lena!" she yelps, then recoils, correcting her volume, "I'm Lena Oxton." she shakes his hand with a firm squeeze.

"Genji and I were just about to watch a movie, ya' care to join us?" McCree looks over to Genji to gauge his reaction. Genji merely tilts his head forward appraising him, then rolls his eyes and turns back toward the door.

"Can I? I mean I'd love to!"

"Swell! come on then." They both turn and join Genji at the door; they all walk shoulder to shoulder down the corridor.

"Hey, have either of you seen The Harry Potter series?" Both men just look at her in confused wonder. "Great! We can start now." And she blinks away down to the common room.

McCree Enters the shop just has Hanzo reaches the counter to speak with the barista. The inside of the shop is as expected. The walls are all black aside from gold baroque trim at the top and bottom. Simple black and white paintings hang from them. Black and silver furniture sparsely decorate the dining area. Near the large front windows is an area cluttered with pillows and blankets. A patron sits snuggled in multiples layers with their laptop and oversized headphones nursing a steaming cup of black sludge.

Hanzo purses his lip in thought. "I do not know what I want," He turns and tells McCree as he comes to a stand next to him.

McCree smiles then turns to the server, "Go ahead and give me ah' venti chai latte, nonfat please if you don' mind, and make it two, give one to my friend here." he then slips out a wad of cash and slides it to the barista. They take it and turn to make their order.

Hanzo huffs. "Impatient."

"Just tryin' to help ya out Darlin', I know you'll like it. You order tea an awful lot."

McCree notices a light blush rises on the shorter mans cheek bones before he ducks his head.

They drink their lattes outside the shop in comfortable quite. When both men finish, Hanzo takes their cups and disposes of them.  McCree stands and offers his arm to the other man. Hanzo looks at it, then turns and walks on ahead. McCree shrugs and follows. They soon disappear into the smoggy steel forest.

***

The sky had become clouded with slate grey cotton as they enjoyed their breakfast. The smell of coming rain muddles the city as they walk.

As they reach the docks a light rain begins to fall. The harbor water is dark and greasy from the city's waste. The smell of molding nautical gear and fish permeate their nostrils.

McCree finds a foreman and takes them aside, Hanzo doesn't pay much mind, he trusts McCree to "handle" the man; sticking to the plan of keeping an eye out. Nothing seems amiss, it is almost too calm. The same as it has been since their arrival in the grungy city. Hanzo feels a twinge of displeasure at his lack of vigilance the past two days, but even men such as He and McCree need time for cleansing and self-care.

McCree walks back to him, "Guy says there's only a handful of private ships that travel that far out the way. We ain't gettin' on a big carrier so, one of them's our best bet."

"Seeing as how you've proven yourself capable of talking your way into anything, I do not for-see this as an issue." Hanzo chortles. 

McCree leans back a wicked toothy grin on his face. "Glad to see my talents are to your liking," He winks. Hanzo huffs and turns away, motioning McCree to follow.

The two men walk along the docks, eventually coming to the labyrinth-like stretch of privately owned vessels. They determine it would be best to split and talk to the owners individually.

 

A couple hours later, Hanzo turns down the final stretch of docks on the south side, McCree having taken the north. He is slouched; his efforts in procuring transport proving to be futile have left him visibly disgruntled. Especially so after his most recent attempt, ‘ _ The woman was just unnecessarily rude. _ ' Hanzo may or may not have purposefully shocked her as he shook her hand before moving on. He smiled to himself but it quickly fell. He returned to looking down the last dock.

Near the End, two men worked away at loading a medium sized white boat. The leaner of the two sported dark golden hair and a goatee; a burgundy sweater hung loosely on his upper body and he wore water slick tan pants and boots. The shorter stockier man had long black hair dusted finely with silver hairs pulled back in a messy bun atop his head. His wife-beater tank top seemed a bit too tight to cover his hulking torso. He wore the same pants and boots as the other.

As Hanzo nears, the shorter man had vanished to store goods on the lower deck. The thinner man was attempting to carry an obviously too heavy container of supplies and parts. He attempts to lift it once but strains and is forced to place it down for a better hold. As he lifts it once more Hanzo steps forward to ask if he could assist, "Sir, would you allow me to assist you?"

Hanzo's voice must have startled the man; he slips, falling into the space between the boat and dock. The heavy container crashes into the water below. As the man falls his head collides with the boat frame rendering him unconscious. His body hits the water and soon disappears into the murky sludge.

Hanzo pales, he needs to act. He strips off his jacket and boots and dives in after the man. The man having sunk faster than expected. Hanzo returns to the surface for a second gulp of air.  He pulls air into his lungs and dives again. As he dives he spins the bubbles around him into a foamy mass of air at his fingertips. Pulling it up to his face the mass of bubbles congeals and spins around his head. He takes a breath and feels the relief in his lungs.

When he reaches the man he wraps his arm around the other man's waist and begins to kick up. As he breaks the surface he spins air under his hands and feet to lift and maroon them onto the dock.

The thick man having heard the commotion sees their breach and scrambles to take the other side of his unconscious companion. "What happened!?" he asks fearfully.

"He fell attempting to carry a container of supplies. I dove in to save him." Hanzo leans down to the mans face and feels no breath on his cheek. He turns the mans head to the side and tilts his body, some water flows out, but there is still more. He turns the man's head back and begins administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. The other man crosses his hands over the chest of his companion and waits for Hanzo's nod. After a few attempts, the man begins to hack up water. He groans and turns to his side vomiting up the remaining liquid.

After a short time, the man looks to Hanzo, tears welling up in his eyes. "You saved me.  You saved my life. Thank you! Thank you." he coughs out. The man leans in and hugs Hanzo. He begins to cry, rewetting Hanzo's already soaked clothes.

McCree walks around the corner just then, "what in Sam Hill...?" he pauses and takes in the sight. Realizing Hanzo's actions, he fears what might have happened if it had been him instead.

"How can I repay you?" The man grasps both of Hanzo's shoulders. Hanzo looks back at McCree. McCree merely shrugs.

"If you are willing, My friend and I could use transport to Maine"

***

Later, McCree pulls out a cigarillo and puffs at it lazily as he leans on the bow of the northbound ship. Mr. Callaghan, the shipowner, had amply thanked Hanzo for saving his husband. Not only had he swiftly agreed to escort them north; the man had given them a warm meal of beef stew and caraway bread and vowed to keep Hanzo's elemental nature secret.

Hanzo was currently occupied with the other man; Mr. Scelero. He was an energetic man with enough enthusiasm for twelve Hanzo's, let alone one. 

The man had barely closed his mouth since they'd boarded the vessel. Endless strings of stories and endearments about himself and Mr. Callaghan's treks across the globe occupied the air between him and Hanzo. McCree notes; his exaggerations could rival that of even Reinhardt's most outlandish tales. McCree chuckles to himself.

He looks to Mr. Callaghan; occupying himself at the helm, ever so often looking down to his husband, a fondness in his eyes. McCree lets his gaze fall back to the two men talking on the deck. Hanzo's thinning patience clearly visible by the clench in his jaw. Still, Hanzo looks to be putting the effort forth to listen and reciprocate with minimal reactions. His heart swells in his chest. He admits; Hanzo is cute when he was frustrated.

***

Hanzo tentatively waves from the docks as the two men disappear from view on the harbor. He slumps, exhausted from holding a conversation for hours on end. He turns and follows McCree to their cab.

***

They exit the cab at Trettin Airfield. Hangers and maintenance buildings litter the view. Orca', military aircraft and commercial planes alike are scattered about; Flying in, landing, and moving.  _ ‘What an odd array of crafts to have all in one place,' _ Hanzo thinks to himself. He follows McCree into the concrete-framed glass tower, which he assumes in the main building. The tall structure looks to be made almost entirely out of glass held there by steel grey concrete pillars. The only walls that prove opaque are the bathrooms and private offices. The midday sun casts little shadows around them; its light bounces endlessly, refracting off the countless shining surfaces. It reminds Hanzo of a mirror maze Genji had once dragged him through.

McCree walks up to a guard stationed near the entrance. They speak for a moment out of Hanzo's earshot. Said guard smiles brightly and holds up a finger. They speak into their communicator for a brief moment. McCree turns to face Hanzo and waves him over. They follow the guard to an area out behind the glass spectacle and into another hanger.  A single man stands next to a plane, holding a clipboard looking befuddled. The middle-aged dark-skinned man stands tall, about the same height as McCree. He is not plump but broad. His bleach-blonde hair is gelled back; a single curl flicks forward stubbornly. His bright green eyes shine in the sunlight with a youth uncommon for his age. He wears a white pinstripe collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An orange and white paisley design is visible on the inner lining. On his legs he wears fitted tan chino pants, with cognac leather moccasins on his feet. Even though he is dressed nicely, the image is marred by the sagging tool apron and oil on his face.

"Charlie!" McCree yells over the distance. The man looks up briefly in surprise but his face soon breaks into a closed lip smile.

"McCree! It's good to see you are still in one piece.” They meet in the middle and McCree hugs him. “You're late bub, it had me worried. Too bad too. The plane I had for yah' left three hours ago." the man hands off his clipboard to his assistant and shoos her away.

"Sorry Charlie," McCree and Charlie both exchange shit-eating grins. "Gettin' here was a bit harder than expected. Think you can still get us a ride?"

Charlie brings a hand up and holds his chin raising a brow. "I think I can come up with something. I have an Orca here now that just finished maintenance and will be leaving for Numbani in three. You okay with flying cargo?" He laughs.

"I've flown on plenty worse than cargo," McCree laughs along. "But now, I can't say for my friend here. Charlie this is Hanzo, my…" Hanzo looks at him a sullen stare in his eyes. "um, business partner. Hanzo this here is Charlie, a pal o' mine and a damn good engineer."

Charlie holds out his hand, "It is nice to meet you." He says, no malice evident in his voice.

Noticing the man's offer of his left hand, Hanzo takes it and shakes firmly. "Yes it is, I also appreciate the favor."

"Is' the least I can do for this fine man here saving my kid." He smiles broadly and places his hand on McCree's shoulder shaking it.

"Oh Yeah! Tabby how is she? She'd have to have grown quite a bit."

"Tay, ' _ He _ ' is as much trouble as any teen and just as hard to keep up with. He came out to us shortly after your last visit. It was a shock but we could not be more proud of his bravery. He also recently got into virtual design. His mother couldn't be happier and..."

"MCCREE!!"  A yell echoes out from the landing above them. The three men look up to see a head of short caramel curls bouncing and a blindingly bright smile. Tay forgoes the stairs and vaults the railing landing soundly on the cement (an impressive display Hanzo admits.)  then bolts over to the men. He slams into McCree and grips him in a crushing hug, McCree hugs back with just as much energy. Once they break Hanzo gets a better look at the young man. The teen is short and lean, a shark tooth necklace hangs from his neck. His milk chocolate skin is covered by his grey plaid shirt and black cargo pants hang low on his hips held there by a black belt with a gold winged skull on the buckle. White high-top converse adorn his feet. Hanzo just looks at McCree one eyebrow raised (He is skeptical the boy chose the buckle of his own accord). McCree just smiles with a glimmer of pride clearly in his eye and shrugs.

"Where ya' been McCree? You said you'd coach me on my poker face last time you visited, own up!" Tay fake punches McCree in the chest. McCree chuckles and squats down face to face with the boy.

McCree looks at the little man standing strong in front of him, He's happy to have given the kid someone headstrong to look up to. Maybe it helped. McCree smirks "Sorry buddy, I ain't got the time today. How's about a raincheck?" McCree reaches up and noogies the boys head. Tay calls out in mock protest still smiling. Charlie stands over the both of them laughing.

"Fine, as long as you show me your sands this time." Tay squints and smiles at McCree. McCree just huffs.

Hanzo feels a bit of warmth bloom in his chest. Seeing McCree crouch in front of the boy brings back sweet memories. 

It was spring; the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. He and Genji were both young boys barely out of childhood. They had been out in the courtyard sparring when Genji fell off the far side. Hanzo's heart nearly stopped at seeing his young brother disappear over the cliffs edge. Thankfully the Sakura' had slowed his descent. When Hanzo made it to his brother his right arm was snapped back, broken. Hanzo had taken his hair scarf and used it to support the arm. Guilt settled low in Hanzo's gut at having been so consumed with the need to win that it blinded him to the impending danger.

Their father had seen the event and called for servants to bring medical aid. He then hurried out to his sons. After checking Genji and making sure he was in no immediate danger he knelt down in front of Hanzo and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Hanzo, my son. You mustn't let this burden you. Stand strong. Genji will heal. This was not you're doing."

"But father, If only I had stopped I would have seen the ledge, I wouldn't have sent him over it," Hanzo barriers his face in his hands.

"Not even I am able to see everything placed in front of me." Hanzo raised his head and looked at his father; the mask that would normally have met him was nonexistent. The face he saw was not sharp around the edges but soft; Love shown deep in his eyes. Sojiro Shimada, a man of honor and discipline (Leader of the Shimada-Gumi and Head of the family) let down his guard for his son, his dearest child for the first time that day. "We will all make mistakes; it is our responsibility to right them as we see fit and carry on with honor. Now stand, let the staff care for your brother." At that moment three staff came with aid and a carrier bed. Hanzo looked to his brother, he had tried hard to feign indifference but his father knew him too well. "You may go with them. Stay by his side. Comfort him. Guide him." After that, a flame of admiration for his father was lit in Hanzo's chest.

Hanzo had looked up to his father; Not only as the heir but as a son. He only hoped in this life he could live to be half of the man his father was. To think he would become so much less. Hanzo blinks the memory from his view and returns his gaze to the three in front of him. In his reminiscing McCree had taken one of Charlie's tools and began to play with it. Turning it from solid to sand and back again. The young boy continued to smile wide at McCree.

Tay's smile suddenly drops. His eyes grow wide with fear; a flit of determination is visible just as he turns his gaze quickly to McCree then pushes him to the ground from where he is crouched; Chains pierces the air that was McCree just a second prior. They all react instantly. McCree sprints up, grabs Tay, and tumbles away as the chains pull up and whip after him. Hanzo lunges forward, twisting Storm bow into his grasp and looks for their assailant. Charlie (now on the ground) yells; fear for his son vivid in his voice.

Hanzo follows the whipping chains to their wielder. Garret, hunched and sweating, sweeps across the ten-foot distance in less than a second rearing up to bring down his chains on McCree and Tay. Hanzo loses an arrow. It streams toward the impeding hulk. Garret in the midst of bringing down his chains on McCree (who nearly manages to dodge) catches the shaft out of midair. 

Garret pauses; he looks at the arrow in his hand then slowly to Hanzo. His eyes are veiny and bloodshot, no sentience present within them. Heavy tears are streaming down his flushed cheeks. This man standing before them is no longer a man; just a body running on pure rage, grief, and loss. Garret Lunges at Hanzo. 

Hanzo crosses his bow over his chest as Garret collides with him sending him flying back. He lands ungraciously on his shoulders and flips over. Storm bow skids off to the side. Hanzo rolls left avoiding the chains sent down upon him. He brings his feet under him in a crouch and comes up swiftly with an elbow strike to the masses stomach. Garret latches onto his jacket pulling him down intending to crush him. 

Hanzo, seeing no other escape, evaporates.  Hanzo's light zips from Garrett's fist and burns his face. Hanzo appears behind him and round kicks his skull sending the behemoth to the ground with a crack.

Garrett slowly picks himself up and snaps his broken neck back into place. The vile sense of disgust weeds into Hanzo's gut. Garrett pulls up his chains and lumbers toward him. Hanzo takes his stance.

As they trade blows sparks begin to arch from Hanzo's eyes. Garrett would win every exchange from pure brute force if not for Hanzo's lightning reaction. As the fight drags on, time begins to slow for Hanzo. He begins to return blows swifter and easier at the bulk of muscle. Hanzo feigns left and as Garrett swings to kick him, Hanzo twists back and brings up a charged palm strike making contact with Garrett's jaw. The Man is sent sprawling on his back.

In all this McCree guides Tay and Charlie a safe distance away. Only once he knows they are out of sight does he turn to the two men locked in combat. McCree feels like his heart is smothered in black tar. He is nearly suffocating in the guilt the sight of Garrett brings him. Knowing his actions brought this man to such lengths. He knows loss. He knows the misery and heartache one lives with after they lose those closest to them. Reyes' voice echoes in his mind, ‘for people like us, killing is part of life; You just have to learn to live with it, and own up when the time comes.' With this McCree's resolve hardens. He pulls out Peacekeepers and draws her up. 

"HANZO!" Hanzo halts and looks to him. "This is my doing. It's my responsibility to end it," Garrett rolls over onto his shoulder facing McCree; Murder in his eyes. "Don't go putting more blood on your hands for nothin'"

Hanzo’s eye widen but he relents, nods and flees from view. McCree grasps his gun tighter. "I know it means nothing now but," McCree licks his dry lips "I am sorry about Sammy," He breathes in "and I'm sorry for this." McCree then pulls the trigger and a single grey bullet leaves the barrel planting itself dead center in Garrett's forehead. The body slumps to the ground.

McCree exhales and steps back turning away. Hanzo silently stands at his side.

McCree closes his eyes, "I hate killin'."

***

Charlie tells the cops the man had attacked them without warning and he had shot in self-defense. Garrett had been on the wanted lists for months, so the matter was closed and swept under the rug within an hour; all forgotten except for the scars it leaves on McCree's heart.

Later, the two men board their craft and are miles over the Atlantic before Hanzo finally speaks. "I am an assassin. Killing is my livelihood. I bear the weight of over a hundred deaths on my shoulders and not one have I forgotten or forgiven myself for. No matter what the reasons for it were. I only hope you may feel some form of relief in knowing that, unlike me. You kill only for just cause and with a good heart. You are a good man Jesse." Hanzo then turns back to his holopad and resumes his reading.

McCree sits for a moment taking in Hanzo's words, he soon smiles. McCree lifts his hand and places it on Hanzo's knee. Hanzo looks up and meets his eyes. His Golden browns swirl with gratitude in their depths. "You didn't choose this life for yourself" ‘ _ and you do right by those when it matters the most.' _ McCree squeezes Hanzo's thigh and then pulls back. Both men feel the flame that burns between them. Having another understand the weight that they both carry makes this life almost bearable.

Hanzo places his hand over McCree's in silence as they fly over the darkening sea.

***

They land in Numbani and make it into the city undetected. They stop at a store and both men change into semi-formal wear. Hanzo dresses in a white and blue suit vest with a long-sleeved black collared shirt and pressed white slacks. McCree slips into a red suit jacket, brown button up, and tan pants. He places his glasses on as Hanzo ties his hair up in an ornate plaited bun.

The two walk into a sleek hotel. Mr James Morels and Mr Hayao Shohei book a single king suite for two nights. It is silent in the elevator as they ascend the open glass elevator.

Once in their room, McCree slouches onto the bed; completely spent. Hanzo loosens his tie and takes in the other man. A spark glimmers in his eye and he smirks.

"Get up, I want ice-cream." McCree raises his head and sees the smirk on the other man's face. Hanzo then turns on his heels and walks out the door. McCree flashes his own grin and pulls himself up, eagerly following.

***

An alarm sounds in a steel-walled room littered with pipes, and buttons of all kinds. A thin man types furiously at the keyboard in front of him. The holoscreen pulls up security surveillance of The Jua Simba Caravansary front lobby in Numbani. It shows two men checking in then taking the elevator to the eighth floor. The thin man stands and sprints down a glowing white hallway. At the end, he opens a red steel door and walks into the dimly lit office.

"Sir! Shimada, we found him." He huffs out of breath.

Axel looks up, his face splits in a malicious snarl baring his teeth. He slams his fist down on the black desk in front of him and stands. "Get me my knives - and contact my men! Contact  _ all _ of them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( 頂きます = Itadakimasu. Connotative meaning:thank you for the meal.)
> 
> Mr. Callaghan and Mr. Scelero are each counter parts to my S/O and Myself :D  
> This goes unsaid but after McCree saved Tay's life he periodically visited over the next 7 years. When ever he was in the area.
> 
> Charlies outfit: http://thailandbesttailor.com/img/shirt_gallery/custom%20made%20pinstripe%20shirt%20contrasting%20collar%20and%20cuff%20lining  
> https://item2.tradesy.com/images/magnanni-cognac-brown-leather-horse-bit-men-s-driving-moccasins-loafers-95-m-shoes-23213541-0-0.jpg?width=720&height=960
> 
> :D Please leave comments I need them to live!!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry about the delay between chapters >u< I won't make any excuses, ya'll know how life can get! Anyway! Here it is, Ch. 7! I have to say it is one of my favorite chapters yet, and some of my best work. Please enjoy :D Also, comment at the end, really. I want to hear from you, tell me how you like it, or have seen me improve <3 TY!
> 
> OH! And links for reference to outfits are in the bottom notes if you are interested <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Shifting Sands Chapter Seven

 

McCree can’t help but think Hanzo’s ass looks amazing in his slacks. His double scoop of chocolate caramel chunk isn’t the only thing he wants to get his mouth on. He leans in and takes another lick at the sweet creamy goodness; his waffle cone is starting to become soggy so, he focuses on finishing up the first scoop as the two continue to walk down the busy shopping street. 

 

Numbani is bustling, the lunch rush having only just finished and the citizens are returning to work, while the youth saunter in and out of the many boutiques that lined the sidewalks. 

 

Seemingly, deciding the rush is too much to fight against, Hanzo pulls them aside to sit on a shaded bench and wait it out. 

 

Hanzo scoops up a rather large spoonful of his white chocolate cappuccino softserve and takes it in his mouth happily; slowly removing the spoon. McCree can’t help but grin at his attempt to keep a straight face, when the twitch at the corner of his mouth and the spark in his eye tell all too easily how delicious it must be.

 

The steel and glass towers loom over them, reflecting the sun's bright light down through the trees as they finish their icy delight. Hanzo finishes first and leans back against the bench after tossing his cup in the waste bin. He tilts his head just a bit to look at the man next to him.

 

McCree stuffs the remainder of his soggy cone in his mouth and licks his thumb. Hanzo smirks, a soft warmth present in his chest. His eyes follow the fine cut of McCree's jacket from his shoulder to his hip. “This look suits you quite nicely,” he scoffs, “a lot better than that tacky hat.”

 

McCree finishes chewing and laughs, “Darlin’ you wound me,” he places his hand over his heart in mock hurt, “and don’t knock the cowboy look. It worked on you didn’t it?” a shit eating grin cracks his face.

 

Hanzo scoffs and stands looking around at the multitude of neon lit signs. An idea pops into his head. “How about we shop for a bit?”

 

McCree looks up at him and raises a brow, “We not gonna figure out our travel plans first?”

 

Hanzo stands there feeling the breeze push through the city and roll over him. It's a beautiful day and for once in a long long time he wanted to enjoy it. He makes a decision for himself, “I think a day of pleasantries is in order. It will be a good chance to live before we are bound by duty once again.” McCree smiles at him. “Come, I see a hat I want you to try on.” with that both men stand and walk down the block to the shop across the way. 

 

The store lay inside a lonesome glass tower. Its white stucco front is carved with a intricate design highlighted with silver detail. ‘’ _ Tacky _ ” McCree hums. 

 

Hanzo notes to McCree that the building resembles a repurposed museum. McCree gawks and nods his head. 

 

A neon sign hangs just outside the double glass entrance;  _ ‘Socrates’ Adaptable Attire’ _ in gold and silver letters. 

 

As the men walk in, the two mannequins in the window catch McCree’s eye. One hangs off the wall to seem as though it's scaling the tile. It's dressed with an interesting pair of clawed boots, presumably the centerpiece of the outfit; a pair of ripped skinny jeans and loose white shirt cover its body. The other mannequin stands with one hand on its hip, the other raised holding open its jacket to display the many straps and pockets on the inner lining. The shoulder area is layered with a armour plating over the neck and shoulders.

 

“What kinda’ shop  _ is _ this, Han?” McCree walks up to Hanzo standing at a rack pulling hanger after hanger along the bar. “It ain’t much my style.”

 

“One could say it is a Couture supplier,” Hanzo pulls off an article from the rack looking it over then laying it across one arm.

 

“For hunters? Pretty high end I’d say,” ‘ _ nothin’ like anything I ever been in _ ’ McCree snarks then moves away looking along the display wall.

 

As he walks he sees a myriad of different clothes, all designed beautifully and all sharing a similar detail; each piece having a hidden function. Gloves with extendable metal hooks, a belt that becomes a sword, and a jacket made of bullet proof kevlar.

 

In the glass display case below the wall is a display of jewelry, weapons, and accessories. As he scans them he pauses on a single item; a bolo tie. 

 

A silver demon stares back at him. Its two horns inset with green onyx. The weapon sends a shiver slithering down his spine. Feeling the static and burn rise in his hand he sneers at the item and pushing the memories it ignites to the back of his mind in favor of continuing his perusal of the store.

 

As he reaches the back counter a man walks out leaving a curtain billowing in his wake. Tall and lean, he’s dressed in a tight pink shirt and a familiar pair of black pants that grow more fitted as they reach the knee. Over his shoulder is a black shoulderguard each blade tipped with steel; a gun latched into the chest strap. His fuschia hair is slicked back and he sports bold black eyeliner.

 

“Hello and welcome,” the man bows at the waist. “Please if there is anything I can help you with please do not hesitate to-” the man stops speaking, staring off behind McCree.

 

His smile drops and he follows the man's gaze. Hanzo stands just a bit away slipping on a jacket. The instant aura Hanzo adopts with just the simple change of clothes sends a wave of heat straight to his groin, “well damn sugar, you look pretty as a peach.”   
  
Hanzo huffs, “Unlike you, I spend time in front of a mirror. You would do well to try it sometime.” Hanzo then turns to show him the rest of the garment. On the second pass he freezes, locking eyes with the store man.

 

“ _ Yūdai _ .” Hanzo’s voice is low and edges on aggressive.

 

The voice is so foreign, so different from the cadence he has grown used to over the past days that there's a paused before he realizes the threat behind him. McCree whips around, backing away from the man, hand poised over peacekeeper tucked in his pants pocket.

 

The man, Yūdai, stands there staring for a extended moment. His face then breaks into a bright smile, “Hanzo!” Yūdai closes the distance (Hanzo only taking a half step back in hesitation) and pulls Hanzo into a tight hug. Hanzo visibly shrivels at the contact, eyes wide with distaste.

 

“It is good to see you alive.” Yūdai pulls back, “When I had learned of your….defect, I’d feared for you. Though I also had faith in your skills,” he laughs.

 

In a flash a blade is pressed flush to Hanzo’s throat. The man's prosthetic right arm having concealed it in his wrist. The cock of a hammer echos through the air. McCree levels the barrel at Yūdai’s head. None of them move. “Unfortunately however, it seems you have grown soft.” The blade presses just a bit more, a single drop of blood drips down from the tip to soak into the fabric of Hanzo’s new shirt.. Another tense moment passes.

 

Yūdai sighs. Pulling the knife away he bends his hand back sheathing the blade once more with in the skin of his prosthetic. Turning away he motions for them to follow. They do so cautiously.

 

“Calm yourselves, I understand it is not my place to exact justice where it is not mine to take,” he eyes them as they walk down the back hall and into an office. It’s small with a large desk that takes up half the room. Yūdai sits in the tall back leather chair behind it then motions for them to sit. He lights a thin cigarette and takes in a few puffs as the two men settle into the other chairs.

 

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” he vaguely motions with his hand.

 

“Our presence is pure coincidence. We were simply passing through the city.” Hanzo sits straight with no tension. McCree senses this and follows suit, if not warely.   
  


Yūdai takes another puff of his cigarette and turns to McCree, “And you are?”

 

“Mor..” McCree starts,

 

“This is my associate, Mr. McCree,” Hanzo interrupts him. “McCree this is Yūdai Kyōsuke, an old...acquaintance.” Yūdai leans forward and offers his hand. McCree takes it.

 

Hanzo offering his real name sits heavy on his mind. Whoever this man is, he is dangerous.

 

“I am familiar with your handy work,” Yūdai raises a brow.

McCree grins, “Yeah? Do tell.” he resettles into his chair.

 

“You have quite the soft heart for pedestrians. Also, I am quite certain of the fact you are innocent of the murders you were charged with last summer in Dubai?” Yūdai finishes his cigarette and flicks the bud to the floor, nodding.

 

McCree gawks mentally for a brief moment. For this man to know the truth about Dubai when only he and two others knew the  _ whole _ truth caused an equal amount of dread and respect to well up in his gut. McCree quickly recovers, “You have keen ears.”

 

“I am aware.” Yūdai hums happily. A awkward quiet settles over the room.

 

Yūdai then opens his desk drawer and pulls out a black beaded bracelet. He slides it across the desk to Hanzo. Hanzo catches it and turns it over in his palm. “These are Nanites Beads. They have a multitude of functions. Each reports back to the AI core present in the gold lion head bead. They can be used to monitor vitals, transmit data, hack, and also removed to be use as wireless trackers that relay data directly back to the wearer; from your enemy or your ally.”

 

He stands and walks to the door motioning once again to follow. They return to the main store area and turn to the rack of hats hanging on the wall. Yūdai pulls down a solid black gambler hat and holds it out to McCree, “Try this,” McCree takes the item and looks it over before resting it over is head.

 

He notices immediately the weight it carries; far heavier than his favorite stetson.

 

“That is a brawler. Tell it to activate.”   
  
“How?” McCree asks confused.   
  
Yūdai deadpans, “Send it a mental que and it will react.”

 

McCree feels stupid but follows the directive, ‘ _ activate? _ ’ the hat lip drops and begins to grow fitting tightly around his shoulders and down his arms. His fists soon become scaled brass knuckles. The top section of the hat stretches over his face seamlessly melding into the rest. 

  
  


“This is Nanite tech also, the fabric is stretchable kevlar and hard light. The wielder gains melee combat weaponry customized to their fighting style. The mask section functions as a gas mask as well.” Yūdai then walks around the counter. “Think of these items as….parting gifts.” He eyes them both with a cold glare. “In hopes I never see you again,” He waves toward the door, “Now if you will please leave. You are not welcome here.”

 

***

 

The bell tolls above the door as the two men walk out onto the streets.

 

Yūdai narrows his glare watching them fade from view. Sighing he returns to his office and collapses into his chair lighting up yet again. His phone rings, lifting to check the ID:“AXM” flashes as it continued to chirp.

 

He leaves it for a couple of beats, answering just before it goes to voicemail.

 

“Hai, Yūdai speaking…..a high risk high reward target, you say?....currently in the city......yes I am familiar with the name….no I do not know them personally…..no I do not know their location…..yes.....tell your courier to come and I will equip your men with what you can afford…...yes….no I will not cut you a deal…..as always, I am overjoyed by your loyalty, Mr. Moldenhauer…..yes….please keep in touch. Goodbye.”

 

He feels bitter and melancholy. Seeing Hanzo standing before him after all this time awakened feelings within himself he long thought he’d laid to rest. He does not hate Hanzo. Not completely. He hopes his ‘gifts’ would be enough to give them an edge on Axel, chuckling he turns to look out his window.  
  
***  
  
“Who the fuck was that guy?” McCree bursts as they walk down the now quiet afternoon streets not minding his volume. “ I was just about ready to knock his teeth so far down his throat he could spit ‘em out single file!” 

 

Hanzo speaks calmly choosing to ignore McCree’s colorful use of words, “Kyōsuke _ was _ a childhood friend,” he pauses. “He was Genji’s right hand.”

 

McCree stops cold in his tracks.

 

“It is likely he once believed Genji to be dead and that I was responsible. However, It is far more reasonable to say that he knows of Genji’s survival and only spared me because of it. He deeming it Genji’s right to take his vengeance on me.” They slowly continue their walk back to the hotel. 

 

“He was the son of  our father’s favored arms dealer. Genji was rarely seen without Kyōsuke by his side. They partied, drank, stole, organized and attended orgys. They were Hanamura’s great nightlife attraction. They did anything to gain attention.”

 

“Then one night, When their actions resulted in the death of twenty men; two of which were elders, My father was left no choice but to cut ties. The fact they were so close with my father personally is most likely the sole reason their lives were spared. After that _ I never saw him again. _ Though I did suspect Genji and  _ Kyōsuke _ met in secret.”  _ ‘I know they did’ _ .

 

They reach the hotel entrance and pass quietly through the lobby. Several patrons sit in the seats around the front foyer. A woman in a pale blue dress stands and walks along the aisle toward them. Her long silver hair cascades over her shoulder.

 

As they pass each other in the thin aisle she catches McCree’s broad shoulder and stumbles. McCree reaches out to steady her. She nods shyly with an almost inaudible ‘Thank you’ and continues out into the streets.

 

The two men enter the glass cage elevator and begin their ascent. “I learned a few years ago that Kyōsuke had taken ownership of his late father's trade. For several years now I have purchased his ‘goods’ for their outstanding quality and that they suit my personal tastes.”

 

“Doesn’t seem to me like he’d be willing to sell you anything.”

 

“It is why I use an alias and a third party.” Hanzo adds.

 

They exit the elevator and walk the short distance to their room. Once in, Hanzo deadbolts the door.

 

Having exhausted all his social reserves, Hanzo kicks off his shoes at the door and collapses onto the bed. Seeing Yūdai had taken more out of him than he was willing to admit. 

 

***

 

_ The moon shone bright in the night, the shoji door slid back silently. He felt the footfalls but heard nothing. _

 

_ Genji crouches at his bedside, “Hanzo, join us tonight. We will wait for you outside the alley.” He then turns and leaves just as quietly as he had come. _

 

_ Hanzo hardly ever joined his brother in his nightly scandals, but that rarely stopped him from asking. Genji had known he would comply that night however. The elders had tried to negotiate a spouse for him earlier that evening and it had ended sourly. The two men that chose his would be brides had argued for several hours over the better choice and it had grated on Hanzo’s psyche; he was in need of an escape. _

 

_ Hanzo stood and dressed, then silently crept out into the night. Once free of the palace walls he slid along the alley ways, taking care to be unseen. As he rounded the corner two figures stood in the city glow. _

 

_ “Brother! We are honored by your presence,” Genji speaks sarcastically with a mischievous grin on his face. Kyōsuke stood next to him with much the same expression. _

 

_ “Yosh! Kyōsuke and I have something big planned for tonight. A little revenge on the two that stole you from our spar day are in for quite the fun time tonight.” Genji laughs. Kyōsuke smiles beside him. _

 

_ “Do not pull me into your hijinks. I do not wish to rattle my cage anymore than I already have.” Hanzo scowls at them. _

 

_ Genji just chuckles. _

 

_ Kyōsuke leans into Hanzo’s space, taking his hand. A faint blush dusts the back of Hanzo’s neck as he turns to him. Kyōsuke brings his chin up and their eyes meet, “It is only a bit of fun. Til you rise and we can be together let me... And Genji have this? Mmm?” Kyōsuke leans in and takes Hanzo’s lips into a soft kiss. Hanzo leans into it, drinking the other man in like fine wine. _

 

_ Genji groans, “agh It’s bad enough my best friend is my brother’s boyfriend. Must you do that in front of me?” _

 

_ Kyōsuke chuckles under his breath. Hanzo pulls back and sends him a haughty glare, “Fine, let us go. I want to show them first hand what they get for meddling with dragons.” _

 

_ As they walk forward they disappear into the fog of the city. _

 

***

 

Hanzo pulls his knees up to his chest as he mulls over the memory. Exhaling he closes his eyes and rolls sinking into the bedding ‘ _ too soft’ _ and grumbles. Warmth then envelops his back and cuddles up to him. McCree soaks into his space, slotting himself up against the other man and wrapping his arm across him.

 

“Looks like someone's thinking too hard.” McCree pulls him tight, “I know from experience that ain’t a fun trip.” McCree then places soft and deliberate kisses up and down his neck; rubbing circles into his arm and hand softly.

 

McCree can’t help but feel a strange sense of peace. Men like them don’t get to feel this; the luxury of another's embrace. To feel loved. To think Hanzo would let him do this for him warms his heart in ways he never thought he’d experience again.

 

They lay together letting time pass blissfully. Hanzo’s mind drifts, the warm heat pressing against his back soothes his worrying mind and he soon finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open. Both men soon succumb to sleeps grasp.

 

***   
  
Hanzo wakes to the light of the rising sun just breaking through the blinds. McCree must have undressed and resettled them during the night because as he casts his view down he sees himself lacking a considerable amount of clothing, compared to how he went to sleep. Both swaddled within the thick comforter Hanzo sighs and nuzzles into his pillow; McCree still pressed firmly against him.

 

Yesterday’s events begin to crawl through his mind. The memories that have been ignited of his life in days past burn like  a bright flame of guilt in his chest. His mental demons descend and litter his mind with bittering thoughts; ‘ _ you don’t deserve this warmth _ ’, ‘ _ what are you doing? After all you’ve done, you think you could be happy _ ?’, ‘ _ you’ll only hurt him in the end _ .’ He sits up on the bed leaning forward, elbows on his knees and takes deep breaths. ‘It’s in the past’ he tells himself, but he knows it’ll take more. No matter how much he wishes to move forward, he’s a stubborn man, stubborn in the worst ways. Today they’d have to organize and move again towards Gibraltar- to Genji. Hanzo flinches, he’s not ready to meet him again. After so long!- how could he just show up after ten years and expect him to- he shakes his head, leaving the thoughts for later.

 

He looks down at the man on his side. He never thought he could have things like this. He’d only known McCree for a week and yet the chemistry between them and the trust that they shared equally and so readily was almost unbelievable if he had not lived it himself. If he was anymore foolish he’d admit to himself he even loved…..he sighs.

 

Hanzo stands and walks around to the ensuite bath. The white tile is ice cold on his feet. It helps ground him to reality, he's thankful for it. Slinking over to the glass shower he strips and walks onto the stone detailed floor turning on the water and feeling its ice crawl over his skin, feeling it warm up. Steam rises slowly as the water drops onto the chilly stone. As he tilts his face up into the stream he hears the shower door slide and calloused hands wrap around his hips. He tilts his head to the side as the other man’s beard brushes lazily down his neck.

 

McCree hums contentedly at the offering, still half asleep. His hands venture to Hanzo’s V and stroke the silky skin there, while grinding his obvious arousal into Hanzo’s ass.

 

Hanzo tenses, the touch tickling a bit too much. He reaches behind him and grasps McCree’s plump cheeks and chuckles. A sly grin crawls over his face and -

 

“Yah!!” McCree jumps and separates himself from the other man, rubbing his tender cheek with his hand. “Hey now, what you gotta go and zap a mans ass for!?” he asks exasperatedly.

 

Hanzo busts out laughing, unable to contain himself. The look of utter betrayal on McCree’s face doing him in. He knows he is gone, head over heels for this man. After a couple beats of watching McCree yawn and stretch in his groggy nude glory, he realizes he can live with that fact. He closes the small distance between them and kisses McCree deep, he pulls away just after McCree returns the gesture. “Mmmm What are you doin’ to me, sugarplum?”

 

“Nothing you wouldn’t consent to, I am sure.” Hanzo backs away and both men resume washing and cleaning themselves. They both take their time and the glass and mirrors of the bathroom are fogged thickly when Hanzo finally steps out.

 

Hanzo walks under the drying nook (a indent in the wall lined ceiling to floor with air vents that dry the body) and lets it do its work. He then busies himself at the mirror; wiping it down and giving himself a clean trim. 

 

McCree steps out and towel dries as the nook does his hair, “Fancy thang, ain’t never used one before, but heck they still ain’t anywhere near as hot as you.” McCree lays his towel over his shoulder and walks toward the door.

 

“Are you comparing me to a home appliance?” Hanzo scoffs, McCree just laughs. “I would hope your standards had improved from your most recent attempt at flattery but it seems I continue to be disappointed.” 

 

Both men pause sharing a quiet moment - before dissolving into a fit of shared laughter. McCree makes his way out into the suit. He clothes himself in his standard jeans but opts out of his usual plaid for a nice white button down; ‘ _ should look real nice with that new hat _ ’. 

 

He slips on his boots and reaches for the hat, twirling it in his hands. He knew there was more to this Yūdai than Hanzo was giving him. He knew that much by how easily he trusted the man. Letting him get that close, trusting him with sensitive information, accepting gifts….that was the main set off. He’d only personally known hanzo for little over a week and already he was so attached; felt like they’d known each other in another life. Old souls as they say. ‘ _ Stupid, fallin’ so quick _ .’

 

Yūdai had to have been very close, painfully so for Hanzo to almost blindly accept anything the man did. It pained McCree to see Hanzo make the faces he did last night as he curled in on himself; seeing him trapping himself in his own mind and recount painful memories. He knew all too well how one can break from listening to their inner demons for so long.

 

He stands and walks over to the mirror. Combing out his hair and checking his face, ‘ _ could use a shave soon _ ’, He takes the razor from his bag and decides to hack away. He leaves himself a nice afternoon shadow. ‘It’ll grow back by next week anyway’. He places his new hat on his head and does a spin. ‘ _ Hm, “ _ lookin good”.

 

“Ahem.” Hanzo is standing in the door frame, obviously enjoying what he sees by the bulge in his towel. “I suppose a bit of time in the mirror can do both of us some good.” McCree smiles big and wide. He lifts his hands and fixes his collar; all smug.

 

“Now sugar, I’d be willin’ t’bet I’d give you a run for your money.”

 

Hanzo gives a half laugh and walks over to his bag, pulling out a fresh pair of clothes. His gray jeans and dark blue button down with white sleeves. His boots go on after and the jacket from Yūdai’s shop goes on over. McCree makes note of how he hesitantly slips the nanite bracelet into his pocket.

 

McCree looks at the time, “Welp we missed breakfast, and we haven’t planned out travel details yet either. What you wanna do?”

 

Hanzo continued buttoning his jacket as he talks; eyes closed, “I am in need of good food and perhaps you would not be opposed to some liquid courage before we further our plans.”

 

“This early? I mean I never turn down a good drink for any reason but, why are you wantin’ one?” he already knows why; after a day like yesterday and the day before, a man needs his escapes.

 

“I-” Hanzo grumbles “I merely wish to share one with you before we make out last trip. Is this not to your liking?”

 

McCree lets it drop. He does for now anyway. 

 

***

 

They both grab their bags and head out the door. Hanzo waits in the lobby as McCree checks out and takes the refund for their unused night.

 

Hanzo makes note of the same woman from last night, now dressed more casually sitting in the lobby. She’s typing away on her holoscreen absorbed by whatever she is working on. McCree walks up and he shakes her from his mind. 

 

As they walk McCree suggests restaurants and Hanzo turns him down on all of them; giving the most monotonous reasons, one such being; “Their sign is too yellow” for a sandwich shop. His head hurts, and he’s tired, he knows he’s being unreasonable but, his inner turmoil from this morning has him in a particularly bad mood.

 

McCree suddenly grabs his arm. The taller man pulls him forward and into a small shop; its all white and steel with a small black sign out front with the simple words “Pain et Vin”. Once inside, the waitress escorts them to an outside sitting area; they’re are alone. They’re handed their menus and she leaves to fetch them their drinks. McCree doesn't look at him.

 

“I get that you’re irritable from what happened yesterday,” McCree makes eye contact for a split second, “I don’t know why you can’t trust me enough to let this off your chest, but I’m a patient man.” Hanzo gapes at the man across from him. A bloom of regret grows in his chest. He hates himself for not being about to get past things that happened so long ago but, the memories are so raw on his heart still.

 

Before he can break the awkward silence the waitress returns, they order; Hanzo gets a simple soup and salad combo and McCree gets a dry grilled pork chop and broccoli. Hanzo lets the silence linger for a bit longer before speaking. “It is not that I do not trust you. It is more my own self hatred and embarrassment that keeps these memories-”, he fists his napkin tightly in his hands; knuckles turning white, “-these weaknesses locked in my head.”

 

McCree says nothing just simply listening, letting him speak. “Kyōsuke was my first love.” Hanzo pauses looking up to gage the other man's reaction. McCree simply nods and sips at his water. Hanzo continued, “I suppose by my actions you already suspected a more personal tie than just friends as I’d tried to have you believe. It was a secret relationship; I, as the heir was expected to take a wife and bear a child to secure the future of the Shimada line. Especially so with my lineage and ‘ _ gifts _ ’. As I grew and found myself more acclimated to men, I began to loathe myself; that I was not perfect for the clan.”

 

“Genji - He pulled me out of it. He used his freedom-seeking tendencies to show me a world outside the clan and through this is where I met Kyōsuke. He made me feel truly loved at a dark time. After the…incident...being broken away from him and how I was held up as innocent - even though I was the one that threw the gas bomb into the club - made him resent me. We washed our hands of each other. It hurt more than I care to remember.”

 

He pauses to sip his own water and give himself time to breath, “after that I refused to spend time with Genji; not wanting to bring down any further blame on him.  It marked the beginning of our crumbling brotherhood and my isolation.”

 

McCree nods as their waitress brings up their food. They eat in relative silence, making small conversation about the weather and locations of train stations in the area. They finish quickly and pay then, make their way out into the streets again.

 

“At least he loved ya,” McCree lets the fact hang in the air for a beat. McCree looks at him for a split second but returns his head forward. “In Deadlock you didn't get much choice in the ways of who you could date. And I was just too young and fresh to really know any better. The boss at the time that let me in and took a shine to me...he liked boys like me. Took um in and groomed um real good.” McCree pauses, taking a slow breath.

 

“He was the first person I’d ever met that made me feel like I was worth something more in the world.”

 

“He made me feel good, He told me he loved me and I believed it. I was willin’ to do almost anything for the guy - even kill.” McCree lights a cigarillo and draws on it as they walk, making their way to the station.

 

“I was only 15. Just hittin’ puberty and I thought I was in love. He told me everything I wanted to hear and took….whatever he wanted.” Hanzo places his hand on the other man's back.   
  


“I thought it was suppose to hurt. Didn’t know any better.” McCree returns the gesture. “Took me years of therapy in Blackwatch to even let another man touch me like that and even when I did, I ended up hurtin’ some of them too.”

 

“I ain’t sayin this to ya’ to make you feel guilty, or like you had it better. I’m just tellin’ ya so you know you ain’t alone in the world and - “ He turns and hug Hanzo suddenly, “they ain’t weaknesses.”

 

“You lived didn’t ya?” Hanzo begins to cry silently in his arms, “and ya got me now.”

 

McCree pulls them both into an alley and just holds him, “We got each other. Ain’t neither of us angels, so I ain’t gonna judge you. I want to move forward with ya, if you’re alright with a man like me at ya’ side.” Hanzo looks up, there’s tears silently falling down the other mans face.

 

McCree looks down at him taking his face in his hands, “If I’ve learned anything these past days it’s that I want to spend more time with ya, I want a future with ya and I guess I’m the kinda man that realizes our lives could end any time and I don’t wanna wait to tell ya.” McCree lets his hands drop.

 

“I understand if you don’t feel the same, I know its movin’ kinda quick.” he sniffles, “Ya ain’t gotta answer right away either. I just, needed to get it off my chest while we was sharin’.”

 

Hanzo lets out a small laugh; how could he fall for such a fool. He can sense his dragons mirth and joy coiling inside him. Their love and approval of the man in his arms spurs him forward. Filled with determination and love from hearing McCree’s admission, he braids they’re hands together and leans up, taking the other man's lips in his. As they break away hanzo locks eyes with McCree. “A future with you sounds like one of excitement that I would not want to miss. Besides, who will keep you out of trouble?” His arm glows and the two dragons curl out, one perching on each of the men's shoulders locking them in an embrace. They purr contentedly.

 

Rai raises her head up and touches McCree’s forehead, ‘ _ Thank you young one. For giving him something to cherish _ .’ with that both dragons return in a glowing swirl to Hanzo’s body and leave them alone once again.

 

McCree smiles, a tinge of blush dusting his cheeks. “Alrighty then sug’ it's a deal.”

 

The both of them make the rest of the trip to the bullet train station and buy tickets to Marrakesh, Morocco. “It’s right below spain and only a hop, skip, and a jump over the Mediterranean to Gibraltar.”

 

As they take their cabin and respective seats McCree brings out his communicator, “Guess it's about time we contacted Winston and let him know we’re comin’. Especially you.”

 

Hanzo grimaces, he’d dreaded this part. Actually making a step of absolution. He was going through with it. “Yes I suppose now is the best time.”

 

McCree nods and hits the call button. It rings twice before clicking, “Agent McCree!” the gorilla chuckles sweetly, “It is good to hear from you. How are you my old friend?” Winston sounds cheerful, if not a bit distracted.

 

“Hey-ya Winston! Um, I was callin’ about that message ya sent me a while back. I was thinkin’ about takin’ ya up on that offer.” McCree says.

 

“Oh! Ahh Yes! That is wonderful news!” the clanking of metal is heard over the comm as Winston moves, “I will have Athena prepare for your arrival and fix up your room.” typing is then heard, “Uhh, ahh yes! Dr. Ziegler is also with us. I will notify her so we may get you a thorough check up to update your file, she will be disappointed if you still haven’t kicked your smoking habits” Winston laughs with delight, “It will be great to see you again. Tracer is here, I know you two were close and - ”

 

“Now hold on!” McCree interrupts the rambling scientist. “Ah Ha yeah bud um It’ll be good to see you too. Like I’m comin’ home, but uh there’s also somethin’ else.” McCree looks up from the com. And locks eyes with Hanzo. He remains silent but nods at the com. “I uh, got me some company I’m bringin’ along with me. Uh, You remember Genji ever sayin’ anything about his brother?” McCree pauses. “Well uh, we met along the way and noticed our similar destinations and well... He’s here with me.”

Winston laughs brightly, “Ah yes as I was just about to say, Genji is here with me now. He arrived at 08:00 this morning, it is quite convenient you called, he just finished telling me about the invitation he extended to Hanzo.”

 

“Hello McCree and Hello Brother, It is wonderful to hear you both will be joining us.” Genji pipes up over the call and McCree can see the blood drain from Hanzo’s face as his brother speaks.

 

“Hiya, Genji been a while,” McCree motions for Hanzo to reply but he remains silent, his lips a thin line. The quiet drags on til Winston breaks it.

 

“Yes well, How long will it be until you arrive? If you are not far out perhaps we could lend you transport.” the gorilla charges on, oblivious to the stale atmosphere in the train cabin.

 

“We are on a train to Marrakesh, Morocco right now, should be there by nightfall. Hows about you send us a transport to cross the sea? We could meet along the coast.” McCree continued to stare at Hanzo; feeling the sweat start to permiate his skin.

 

The gorilla grumbles, “Tracer will be gone to London then, I will have to escort the Orca myself, But that is do-able. Alright, we'll set the rendezvous point when the time comes. I will also have Genji come as back up in case we run into any trouble.” Winston’s last sentence lands a bit heavier than anyone thinks it was intended to, a tire squeeze chirps threw the awkward air.

 

“Sounds like a plan, We will keep in touch.” McCree answers back with as much cheer as he can manage.

 

“I look forward to seeing you brother….” silence hangs for a moment after Genji finishes, then without warning Hanzo leans in and presses the end call button finitally and lays back looking out the window.

 

McCree frawns slightly as he slips his communicator back in his pocket. Leaning back he angles his hat down over his face “Gotta’ talk to him sooner or later,” McCree closes his eyes and readies for a nap.

 

Hanzo continued to stare out as the train careens down the tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Here is a few reference pics:  
> Mannaquin 1 outfit:  
> https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTBBZTfVCI2ZeYOlEdwc8XvaEUUuQM44YQf7ksiq11_eo22qufsjQ
> 
>  
> 
> Mannequin 2 outfit:  
> https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1sjXFKpXXXXcYXpXXq6xXFXXXo/National-Style-Mens-V-Collar-Casual-Linen-T-Shirt-Three-Quarter-Sleeve-Loose-T-Shirt-Summer.jpg_640x640.jpg  
> http://www.9fuda.com/media/catalog/product/6/3/6369605823858-1.jpg  
> https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/616nQPfH0TL._UL1000_.jpg  
> https://i.pinimg.com/564x/15/01/4f/15014fb57cbb0feaafd43c8a9f5aa58b.jpg
> 
> Clothes Hanzo tries on:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/236x/9c/9c/a7/9c9ca785b29d15742c22575010e690aa--suit-styles-casual-styles.jpg  
> https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB12qL5RVXXXXczapXXq6xXFXXXm/Niebieski-koralik-bransoletka-buddy-bransoletki-elastyczne-kamie-naturalny-bransoletka-lion-m-czyzn-pulseras-hombre-bracciali-uomo.jpg_640x640.jpg
> 
>  
> 
> Clothes McCree tries on:  
> https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/JjgAAOSwNSxVEmh-/s-l300.jpg
> 
> Kyosuke Yudai outfit:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/db/d0/ee/dbd0eea9ae2cc4c5ed965c8978330ba0.jpg  
> https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61tjo4A048L._UX569_.jpg  
> http://www.raff-clothing.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/mens-shirts-stussy-water-color-poppy-long-sleeve-shirt-pink.jpg  
> https://li4.rightinthebox.com/images/384x500/201706/xnjaoy1497601683016.jpg
> 
> Bolo tie:  
> https://i.etsystatic.com/17288492/d/il/d832b6/1580846332/il_340x270.1580846332_27d0.jpg?version=0


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